#i just want more undead Wilde over here

[friendlyfangs]

Zombie Wilde from Halloween 2021

[littlexdeaths]

pushing up daisies - e.m.

kas eddie munson x fem reader

treat me bad like i’m no one's daughter,

body bag, baby, i’m a goner…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: ANGSTTTTT, mentions of eddie’s death and the upside down, canon divergent (reader is chosen as vecna’s last victim instead of max), established relationship, soft!dom eddie, biting/blood drinking, lil bit of jealous eddie, public sex, unprotected piv sex, cream pie

based on love is a… by pvris

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this is honestly something i am so incredibly proud of, so i hope you all enjoy it. a big thank you to my babes @undead-supernova @strangerstilinski and @lokis-army-77 for helping me with parts of this fic, i love you all so much 💕

The sky was dark, storm clouds rolling in as you trudged through the rusted gates of Hawkin’s memorial cemetery.

Only the booming sounds of thunder and your labored breathing filled the morning air. Rain droplets poured steadily onto your head, dripping down the collar of your rain jacket. The clothing seemingly useless as the heavy rain soaked you to the bone.

The wild daisies clutched in your fist were beginning to wilt as your eyes scanned over the sea of headstones. Your throat tightens once you find his, now wishing that Dustin had been lying to you.

The words BURN IN HELL FREAK were still visible, despite the male’s best effort to clean them off the previous day. It had been less than a week since the funeral, but that was plenty of time for someone to vandalize his headstone. You hated this town.

Reaching the now desecrated grave you sigh, gently running your fingers along the top of the headstone. The rough edges scraped against your fingertips as you knelt down in front of it. Letting your hand fall into your lap, glancing down at the sad excuse of a bouquet in the other.

He deserved more than this… he deserved more than anything this shitty town had to offer.

“Hey Eds,” you whisper, despite the desolation surrounding you.

You carefully set the daisies onto the ground, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill past your waterline. The white of the flowers contrasted sharply against the dirt, which was quickly turning to mud beneath your knees. But you didn’t mind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral,” guilt laces your shaky voice as you tug your lower lip between your teeth. “I just… I couldn’t see you like that.”

Despite the feeble attempts that Dustin and Robin made to coax you out of bed that day, nothing was going to change your mind. You didn’t want to remember him that way, as you were already grappling with the image of him dying in Dustin’s arms.

A memory that haunts your dreams every night.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you mumble, reaching into your pocket to pull out his lucky set of dice. A sad smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you begin to place them along his headstone, “I brought a peace offering.”

A loud crack has your eyes flicking up, body jolting in surprise as a bolt of lightning strikes a tree in the distance. The impact splits the trunk down the middle, the wind picking up speed and taking your flowers with it.

The torn petals spread across the unkempt ground, the gesture now ruined. Just like everything else you touched.

You blame yourself for his death, knowing he would still be here if Vecna hadn't chosen you. You would live through a thousand years in a prison of your own mind, let that monster drain you of your entire existence— if it meant Eddie would have lived.

“It’s all my fault,” you don’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks, staring intently at the stone in front of you.

Edward Lee Munson, now at peace.

Those bold words stare back at you, mirroring the stone that sat just a few feet besides his. One you had become very familiar with over the years.

Elizabeth Ann Munson.

Beloved wife and mother, may she rest in peace.

While hers were more faded, they still brought you a small sense of comfort. Knowing that Eddie was with her now, he was safe. But that comfort wouldn’t heal the hole that had been punched through your chest.

“I miss you,” you hiccup, your tears steadily flowing now, the moisture beginning to blur your vision. “It w-wasn’t supposed to b-be you.”

Your soft cries soon morphed into pained sobbing, your shoulders hunched over as you dug your fists into the earth. You were grateful that Steve had let you come alone, not wanting anyone to see you like this.

In the short time that Eddie had been gone, you felt suffocated. With Vecna still alive and plotting, you were constantly being watched. Your friends not knowing if the demon, creature, whatever he was— would come back to claim you for good.

Part of you hoped for it, mentally pleaded to be taken away too. Because a life without Eddie, wasn’t a life you wanted to live.

A loud scream pierces the air, and it takes you a moment to realize the sound has come from you. Your chest heaves from the force of it, allowing your head to tilt back as your eyes slip shut. Enjoying how the rain soaks into your pores, washing away any trace of your tears.

You sit like that for a while, as the storm continues to wage on around you. Silently wishing that the rain would wash you away too. Dirt is caked under your fingernails, mud coated your shins and the hem of your skirt. You knew you couldn’t sit out here much longer, as your teeth started to chatter from the cold.

Your head falls forward, allowing yourself one last look at his headstone. The red paint has stained it horribly, tainting the last thing he had left in this world.

“I’ll come back tomorrow and clean this shit up, I promise.” You say, lifting up your pinky towards the block of stone. You hold it there for a moment before your hand falls back to your side.

“I love you, Eddie,” you sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you start to stand. Turning around as you begin to wipe the dirt from your knees.

As you take a step forward your shoe begins to sink into the wet soil, almost swallowing your foot whole. An annoyed huff leaves your lips as you try to pull it back out. But any attempt is stopped short as a cold hand wraps around your other ankle. A deep groan echoes in your ears as your eyes widen in fear.

This was it… Vecna’s come back for you.

While everything inside you begs you to run, your body remains frozen. Hyperventilating as the ground beneath you begins to shift, your feet sinking in deeper as another body fights its way out from the earth. A strained grunt of your name snaps you out of your petrified state, recognizing the voice immediately.

This was a cruel joke, knowing he was taking on Eddie’s form just to hurt you more. So you decided you wouldn’t stick around to witness it.

If you were going to die, it would be by his own hands.

“No!” You shout, yanking your ankle out of that icy grip as you make a break for it.

You don’t make it very far though, only reaching the edge of his grave before you lose your footing. The tip of your shoe catches on a tree root, sending your body tumbling forward onto the wet ground. The impact knocks the wind out of you as you struggle to take a breath in. Your nails dig into the grass for purchase as you try to crawl away.

The feeling of two hands wrapping around each ankle has you screaming, thrashing about as you're dragged back towards the grave. The male flips you around, unable to hear his broken pleas over the sound of your own shrieks. You keep your eyes focused on the storm clouds above your heads, desperate for some kind of distraction. You wouldn’t look at him, you couldn’t.

This wasn’t your Eddie.

A dirty hand grips onto your chin, tilting your head down as he wedges his body between your thighs. Forcing you to face him, his dark eyes ablaze with fury— a sharp contrast to the way he gently cradles your jaw.

“I’m not in the mood for games… just get on with it,” you snap, letting your eyes slip shut as you wait for that familiar pain to shoot up your spine and through your skull.

But nothing happens.

You crack an eye open only to find the brunette staring back down at you, confusion coating his features.

“… get on with what, sweetheart?” His voice cracks, the look on his face mirroring his tone.

“Killing me,” you state, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

There’s a moment of silence between you before he starts laughing, the booming sound instantly melts your insides. It was something you thought you would never hear again.

“I guess my entrance was very Night of the Living Dead, huh?” He teases with a wide grin as his head dips lower— his drenched curls sticking to your cheek.

When you feel Eddie’s lips connect with the base of your throat, your breath hitches. Heat pools in your middle as he inhales, groaning deeply. The sound vibrates against your skin, sending shockwaves through your system.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he hums, his hands running down the length of your sides. The male grips onto the soaked fabric of your dress, slowly inching it up until his palms are splayed across the tops of your thighs.

“You’re so warm,” he continues, his nose grazing along your collarbone as you grip onto the shoulders of his oversized suit jacket.

“H-How are you here?” You question with a small whine as he lightly nips at your throat, chuckling deeply.

“You brought me here, sweetheart.” His words are spoken reassuringly, but they don’t offer you any comfort.

“So, this is a dream,” there’s no question in your voice, only a trace of melancholy.

But Eddie notices it immediately, his head lifting from the crook of your neck. His dark eyes met yours for a moment, a look of determination flashing through his irises.

“Does this feel like a dream to you, baby?”

Before you can reply, his lips brush against yours. Any worries that this wasn’t real melt away with each press of his mouth on yours. Silencing the fear that this will all disappear the moment you pull apart. The storm rages on as he kisses you with an electricity that rivals the lightning above you.

“Definitely not a dream,” you mumble, earning a soft chuckle from him.

You swallow the sound as you kiss him deeper, his ringed fingers gliding further up your thighs and under your dress. Your own slip underneath the collar of his jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders. Letting the rain soak into his white dress shirt, the fabric clinging to the muscles in his back.

Your hands quickly rake through his hair, tugging on the drenched curls as his mouth trails along your jaw. Continuing lower as he sucks harshly on your skin, enjoying the way your body responds to each press of his lips. A breathy whine spills past your own as his fingers reach the elastic band of your panties.

The tension between you continues to mount as you eagerly drag his mouth back to yours. Eddie’s fingers curl under the waistband, snapping the lace against your skin. You barely register the tearing of that same fabric, too preoccupied with his lips on yours. The clinking of his belt soon follows, aiding him in pushing his slacks down his thighs.

“Please,” you plead, lifting your hips against his. Not wanting to waste another second to have him buried inside you.

The brunette gently shushes you, pulling back for a moment as he rubs the tip of cock through your drenched folds. His pupils dilate as he takes in the way your lips part under his thumb. A shaky breath escapes them as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he coos, caressing your cheek as he guides his hips forward. Slowly slipping into your awaiting heat with a strangled groan, “I’ll take care of you.”

His actions are gentle, as your bodies become reacquainted with each other. Eddie guides your hands above your head, fingers lacing together in the dirt. Your thighs are snug around his hips, desperate to keep him as close as humanly possible.

He rocks his hips into yours at a deep but leisurely pace, letting him savor every moment he spends inside you. As neither of you know what will happen after this is all over, it’s not something you want to think about.

Being here, in this moment, with him is the only thing that mattered to you.

The ferocity of the storm drowns out the cries that leave your lips, much different from the agonized ones you had let out earlier. Everything feels heightened, pleasure coursing through your veins with each stroke of his cock.

There’s a sudden shift in his demeanor as his eyes glaze over with an almost dangerous glint. Similar to that of a predator who had locked eyes on his prey. Your heart rate increases as a deep growl permeates the air. His fingers slip out of yours, instead digging into the soil beside you as his body goes rigid.

The brown of his irises disappear from view as he squeezes them shut, worry beginning to fill your chest. Your hands reach up to cradle his face, feeling how tightly his jaw was clenched underneath your fingertips.

“Eds,” you call softly, but the male remains frozen above you— a statue of Adonis.

He was losing control, ready to slip through your fingers. But you had already lost him once, and you weren't about to let it happen again.

“Stay with me,” you implore, softly pressing your lips against the furrow between his eyes. Brushing the dirt from his cheeks as you continue to trail tender kisses across his face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally speaks as your lips hover over his, your breath mingling together.

“You won’t,” you promise as your nose nudges against his.

Eddie seems reluctant as he opens his eyes, crimson beginning to bleed into his irises. “But there’s something different…” he trails off, searching for any trace of fear reflecting in your eyes. “I’m different.”

“I don’t care,” you don’t miss a beat, capturing his lips with yours once more.

He moans into your mouth, hands encircling your waist as you lift your hips, encouraging him to thrust deeper inside you. Your tongue slips past his lips, gliding along his front teeth. Coming to a sudden realization as you feel the pointed edge of his canines.

Logically you should feel frightened, but it seems to have the opposite effect on you. Your kisses become frantic as your walls flutter around his shaft, the sensation causing him to moan out your name. The pace of his hips quickens as your nails dig into the drenched dress shirt covering his back.

Your lips separate as you gasp, his cock hitting that spot that has you seeing stars. The both of you falling closer to that precipice with each thrust of his hips. But it’s not quite enough, needing to connect with him on a new level.

Eddie peers down at you in awe as your head falls back, baring your throat to him. “Do it,” you insist, guiding his mouth towards your neck.

You can sense his hesitation, his lips ghosting over your skin instead.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, his groan vibrating against your throat. “I want you to.”

The sincerity in your tone squashes any doubts still lingering in his head. Allowing his teeth to graze against your tender flesh, testing his resolve.

“I trust you,” is what he needs to hear before he sinks his teeth into your neck.

Your body arches into his chest, trembling as that familiar wave of euphoria crashes over you— pulling you under completely. Eddie drinks from you greedily, continuing to work you through your high as his own steadily approaches.

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he moans as his teeth detach themselves from your throat.

His tongue darts out, lapping up the blood that begins to trickle down the curve of your neck. The sight of his mark on you is almost enough to send him over the edge. But your pretty whines are the final nail in his coffin, hips stuttering as he fills you with his warmth.

“I love you.”

Those three little words are whispered against your collarbone as the male collapses onto you. A content smile spreads across your face as your fingers card themselves through his curls. The both of you soaking up this moment of bliss for as long as you can.

The rain above your heads has finally slowed to a drizzle, the pitter patter of the droplets matching your heartbeat. You don’t know how long you laid there like this, bodies intertwined on his grave.

But it didn’t matter, as long as it was him you were entangled with.

“I love you too,” you reply a while later, the male humming as he lifts his face from the crook of your neck, crimson smeared across his lips.

A fond look falls over his features as he leans down to kiss you again, the metallic taste of you lingering on his mouth. A thought suddenly occurs to you, causing you to giggle against his lips.

“What’s so funny, sweetness?” He muses, pulling away from you with a raised brow. You tuck a loose curl behind his ear, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Just trying to think of how to explain this to Steve.” You watch in amusement as a scowl appears on his face.

“Poor thing is gonna think I was mauled by a wild animal,” you tease, gesturing to the bite mark on your neck.

You see a flash of jealousy in his eyes, a low growl rumbles through his chest as his lips reattach themselves to your throat— causing you to squeal.

“Harrington’s just gonna have to deal with it,” he answered smugly, hugging your body closer to his.

The both of you completely unaware of the looming figure watching you from the tree line.

tagging some lovelies: @xxbimbobunnyxx @munsonhoneybaby @rowanswriting @voyeurmunson @nailbatanddungeon @vecslut @likedovesinthewnd @lofaewrites

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Can I ask for prompt 13, Nightmares?

Yes of course you can! Here you go!

Summary: Astarion wakes from a particularly bad nightmare, thankful that you're right there when he needs you

Astarion hates nightmares. He hates the way he’s all alone in them, running from something he can never escape. He’s always trapped, back against the wall, nowhere to go as his worst fears swallow him whole and then he wakes up with a start, gasping for air he no longer needs, eyes wild with panic.

He hates how pitiful he feels each time he wakes from a nightmare, wanting nothing but to curl up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest and cry. It makes him feel vulnerable, raw, naked, and nothing good has ever come from that.

He hates the way his skin crawls moments after he wakes, lingering ghostly imprints of the night causing bile to form in his throat and he shivers, wanting nothing more than to leave the tent but the fear that the creature of his nightmares may be waiting for him outside keeps him curled in his bedroll.

His clawed fingertips dig into the flesh of his arm, a quiet sob slipping past his lips. He feels weak, pathetic, and shrinks further into himself. He hates the trembling that follows suit, he can’t stop himself from shaking no matter how deep his claws sink in and tears continue flowing down his cheeks.

He hates how no matter how far he runs, Cazador is always there, taunting him, laughing at him, shattering his dreams. The vampire lord’s claws are always around his throat, squeezing all the air out of his undead lungs, the despicable choking feeling tearing his mind apart even though he doesn’t need to breathe anymore, the pain that explodes from where Cazador’s hands clench around his throat.

He hates hates hates hates —

“Star?” Your whisper slices through the haze, a light reaching out to him in the darkness. He whimpers in response, instinctively shifting in the direction of your voice and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close.

“I’m right here, my star,” you murmur, running your fingers through his hair. He grips your clothes tightly, curling tighter into you as he buries his face into your chest, shoulders shaking with each sob. It breaks your heart to see him like this, curled into a fetal position, in pain and yet you can’t do anything to help.

You would do anything if it meant he would be free of all that haunts him.

Your free arm slips around his waist and you shift until your back faces the tent flap, blocking the sight of anyone who may happen past. He burrows deeper, pressing as much of himself against you as he can. You smell of warmth, safety, everything he needs right now.

“I’m right here.” You say again. You’ll say it over and over again until he fully understands and accepts what it means, no matter how long it takes. You continue threading your fingers through his hair, the rhythm soothing the vampire and his sobs begin to die down, his grip on you loosening slightly but he remains glued to you.

“Don’t leave.” His words are so soft that you barely catch them.

“Never,” you reply firmly. “Not for anything in the world, I promise.”

He keens, resting his head on your chest so that he can hear the steady pounding of your heart and suddenly he feels a little less alone in the chill of the night. It’s still cold, but at least he has your warmth to curl into when it gets too much. He can lean against you, knowing that you’ll be there to catch him should he fall.

You’ve given him so much in the short time you’ve been travelling together, more than he knows what to do with and he doesn’t know how to pay you back, or if he can even pay you back. Yet you never demand compensation for your efforts, never seeming to want anything from him, leaving him confused and lost.

Each time he wakes from his trance, he expects his side to be empty just like it usually is. He’s used to waking up all alone, picking himself from the messy sheets to clean up, feeling the coldness of the bed on the side he didn’t lie on, but ever since that night in the forest, the other side of the bed has never been cold. You’re always there when he closes his eyes and when he opens them back up again, sometimes curled into his side, sometimes wrapping him in your arms, but you’re always there, lying next to him.

It’s the only reason you know about his nightmares.

There are times when he tries to push you away, telling you to leave once you’ve done whatever it is you’ve come to his tent to do and you do leave, only to pop your head back in moments later with a lame and clearly made up on the spot excuse just so you can stay in his tent for the night. He tried forcing you to leave before but you stubbornly refused, so each time you throw him a new excuse, he simply sighs in resignation and lets you stay.

Tonight he’s glad he let you stay.

You gently rub his back, an area nobody had ever touched without causing him to feel sick until you, and he leans into the touch, yearning for something gentle. You can’t help but smile softly when he does so, noticing that he has finally calmed down and has stopped trembling.

He still buries himself in your arms, quietly pressing his forehead against your shoulder with his eyes closed as he takes a deep breath, letting it out with a shudder. His gaze flicks up, meeting yours for the first time since he woke up but quickly flicks back down again.

You don’t ask. You know he will tell you when he is ready and you’re more than happy to simply accompany him for what remains of the night. Still, you worry for him, this nightmare must have rattled him quite hard and you yearn to know the reason for his pain tonight but you hold yourself back. He comes first.

Astarion wordlessly tugs at your hand and you blink, confused but let him do what he wants. He slips his freezing hand into yours and you jump slightly, but quickly give him a reassuring smile when he looks at you with concern.

“Your hand is just a little cold.” You give him a gentle smile. He stares at you for a little while, as if discerning whether you are speaking the truth, before looking back down at your intertwined fingers, holding your clasped hands to his chest.

“Stay,” he pleads softly. You’re the only thing shielding him from the chill his nightmares leave behind, and he’s not sure he’ll survive the night if you leave.

“As you wish, my star.” His eyes light up at your words, a hint of gratitude in them as he curls up against you once more, still holding your intertwined hands to his chest.

“Thank you.” Those words barely scratch the surface of what he wants to tell you, but it’s all he can manage tonight, and that’s more than enough to you.

“Anytime.” With that, he drifts back into a trance to the steady rhythm of your beating heart, your warmth enveloping him. The nightmares still terrify him, but he takes comfort in knowing that should he wake up, screaming and sweating, you will be right there to pull him back to reality — the reality that he has you, always.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Video Games Part 11

Alien: So what is this one about? Human: Vampires in the wild west. Alien: Sounds interesting. Human: You’d think so, but when the main characters are as animated as the undead monsters they fight it’s pretty hard to take them seriously. Alien: From your own admission they are fighting vampire cowboys…..how serious were you expecting it to be? Human: ……. Touché. ---------------------

Alien: What is “The Quarry”? Human: Murder porn and sadness. Alien: ……………… ------------------------

Alien: “Boltgun”? Human: A man too angry to die because of what a sassy bitch he is. Alien: How does being sassy make you avoid death? Human: Because even death is afraid of being mocked so hard. ---------------------

Alien: Why would anyone want to play an aquatic predator? Human: You ever just look at someone and wonder what they’d taste like? Alien: I believe that is called cannibalism. Human: Not unless you’re a giant fish. ---------------------

Alien: Why does the tiny creature have a machine gun? Human: To stop you from eating it. Alien: Most effective. ---------------------

Alien: I heard this one is a popular game. Human: Eh, I guess. Alien: What do you mean “eh”? Alien: There have been five of them made. Human: It’s mostly made for people that like to watch a slow mo shot of a bullet going through a man’s balls over and over. Alien: What sadistic beings are you?!? Human: You should let me tell you about Meat Boy sometime for more context. ---------------------

Alien: This one looks cute. Alien: It’s about a brother in sister in your primitive era. Human: And a shit load of rats. Alien: What? Human: Yeah, you can make the rats devour a man whole as he screams and begs for his life. Alien: I…..but…..just….why? ----------------------

Alien: Why on florps name would someone want to play a game about manual labor? Alien: is not the point of your entertainment games to seek enjoyment? Human: Some people feel pleasure from a job well done. Alien: That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Human: Didn’t your people worship a rock a couple centuries back because when the light hit it the thing sparkled? Alien: ………touché. -------------------------

Alien: I wish to escape this bunker. Human: You just need to find some dynamite and a plunger to trigger it. Alien: Sounds easy enough. Human: And avoid the ancient giant rat god stalking the halls of the bunker. Alien: What is with your people and rats?!!?!?!? ----------------------

Alien: What is this “Crackdown 3” about? Human: A cops fantasy about how they view themselves. Alien: How so? Human: They see themselves fighting crime when more often they help prop up a totalitarian regime. Alien: Did not the second one have monsters in it? Human: That’s how they see poor people. Alien: Holy gargle…..that’s messed up. --------------------

Alien: What is this one? Human: Designing overly elaborate death machines to murder guys in metal suits with swords. Alien: Is that not what we did to your people during the third age of your species? Human: Come again? ------------------

Alien: Is this game about zombies? Human: More a social experiment. Alien: How so? Human: It has no set rules or goal in a zombie apocalypse, but more often you find people choosing the worst things to do to each other for shits and giggles. Alien: It can’t be all that bad. Human: I watched a group of high level players capture a new player, strip them of their gear, and force them to drink bleach under pain of death for a meme. Alien: ……………….. ----------------------

Human: How’s the new game goin- Alien: *Grabs human friend and sprays them with foam Alien: Good…you’re not one of them. Human: spits out foam One of what? Alien: A shape shifter! Alien: They were everywhere on the station and that made me wonder if those bastards are here in the home as well! Human: Wouldn’t say they’re all bastards. Table: Yeah, some of us are actually nice fellows. *Alien and Human both scream*

[angrylesbianstereotype]

Watching Jurassic Park as a kid and the main takeaway understandably being wow!! dinosaurs :)) vs reading the book as an adult where it’s more along the lines of… John Hammond get in the submarine. The dinosaurs have literally already escaped the island and are running amok killing local infants before the main cast even gets there and presumably also nuking the local ecosystem. The raptors have killed multiple workmen and have a taste for human blood. He set up shop in Costa Rica so he could skirt around various regulations and also because he doesn’t view the locals as real people worthy of not being eaten by dinosaurs. He’s not only brought the dinosaurs back from the dead, he’s planning to immediately monetize this by exposing the public to newly zombified wild animals that the most accredited scientists have incredibly limited knowledge on. He invited his own grandchildren to an island populated by undead carnivores just so he could be like see! Would I invite my own grandchildren to skulldeath island if it was dangerous? Checkmate liberals! But that’s exactly what he did!! He refuses to breed dinosaurs that won’t eat the guests even though they could literally do that because he wants the experience to be authentic or something?! Ian Malcolm’s over here prattling on about chaos theory and it’s like I’m good man! I do not need mathematics to tell you this is going to end badly! Hammond is the most realistic depiction of a real life billionaire, utterly unconcerned with and unappreciative of the world he actually lives in because it doesn’t allow him to play toys with the basic tenants of life and death, so instead of putting his money toward bettering the real world he tries to tear it up by the roots and build one perfectly tailored to his own preferences. John Hammond kys!!

[vinelark]

do you have any good reverse robins fic to rec?

oh hell yeah!

Reverse Robins: Joker Junior series by miyaji_08 i rec’d the second fic in this series over here for the timkon of it all, but the series—two parts, both complete—is also one of my absolute favorite reverse robins stories. it goes the joker junior!tim route, so heads up for A Lot of tim-centric trauma, but gives tim (and everyone else) so much healing, too. it also gets creative with the robin of it all, as in, the call sign for batman’s partner is different from the jump because dick wasn’t around to originate “robin” for it, which i always think is a fun extra detail. the batfam characters are great and the young justice crew is also great, so read for top-tier hurt and comfort and great characters and satisfying plot and tim and damian competing to see who is the most Tired big brother of the bunch.

blood of the covenant by envysparkler robins are angsty in any order, but man does this hit the angst sweet spot, which in turn makes the soft parts feel even softer. i genuinely can’t decide what my favorite dynamic is in this AU, between damian & tim (damian wracked with guilt, tim hurting and still wanting an older brother even if he’d never admit it) and tim & jason (no spoilers but chapter 4 especially lights my brain up like a supernova) and tim & dick (i think about the part where dick grayson [tiny, cheerful] uses tim [undead, annoyed] as a jungle gym like once a week).

Wing Beats in Reverse by firefright a longfic where jason gets kidnapped by the mysterious red hood, who turns out to be jason’s not-so-dead predecessor. the jason pov here is great, and i was so compelled by how this AU explored his place in the bat family, and how it managed the emotional fallout from the kidnapping. tim is also so interesting in this—it does something i love in a reverse robins concept, which is make tim’s motivations (and lazarus pit effects) less about anger/hurt/revenge and more about ice cold logic, about being the villain so the bats don’t have to/whether they want him to or not. plus some league of assassins trauma as a cherry on top. also, kon gets to show up for a bit. (as a fair warning—and spoilers ahead—the fic has a somewhat hopeful ending for tim, but doesn’t reach full reconciliation in the scope of the plot.)

i woke up so worried that the angels let go by circees a short but potent batkids age reversal au that’s also a grisha au, starring duke as the coveted sun summoner that damian is trying to deliver to safety without mentally adopting a new brother (damian fails on the second part). even with my limited memory of grisha lore i could tell a lot of thought was put into this au, and i have a feeling it would be even better if you are able to catch all the details. i also love that even in a fantasy world where some of the bat family have magical abilities, duke is still extra special—a great analogy to being a metahuman among the bats.

The 90s Are Back! by RedWritingHood saving the two silly ones for last to lighten the mood! in this one, red hood!tim gets de-aged to sixteen and meets all his new siblings. it’s like .01% angst and 99.99% shenanigans, and pretty much all the dialogue is super quotable but Dick holds out his hands like he's calming a bunch of wild animals. "Okay, I know everyone's real upsetti spaghetti right now, but I think we all just need to calm down." might take the cake.

Clowns Don’t Kill People by mademoisellePlume very short, very silly reverse robins brother shenanigans, in which tiny dick grayson isn’t scared of recovering joker junior!tim because dick, having been raised in the circus, doesn’t associate clowns with evil yet. the fic is fun (and a great palate cleanser if you need a break from the angst above), and the author’s note at the end made me fully laugh out loud.

[enquiringangel]

Family Dinner

for @themarginalthinker who wanted Max introducing Lucy to his Boys. Some David/Michael and vague David/Michael/Star because I am weak, lol.

When Max told him of his plans to turn some woman he met and her two kids, David got it. He was lonely once too. Before his boys came along, it had been just the two of them for a good thirty years.  And Max was many things, but entertaining company? Definitely not one of them. It was like living with an undead accountant. By that point David had seriously begun to wonder if it was possible for an immortal to die of sheer boredom.  

In his own way, Max had understood this. Though he got annoyed with him whenever David had been too messy or too obvious with his kills, in the very next moment he would dismiss it as ‘the impetuousness of youth’. And when David had come back to their lair one night unable to stop gushing about this guy he’d met down by the docks and how fun it had been to watch this scrappy kid defend himself with a crowbar against five guys and win, Max had studied him curiously and asked, “Would you like a brother, David?”  

The rest was history. Max had given him Marko, then later Dwayne, then Paul, and boredom and loneliness had become a thing of the past. So yeah, he could understand Max wanting to have someone on his own wavelength for company through eternity. That didn’t mean Max’s whole ‘let’s play happy families’ shtick wasn’t ridiculous though. He didn’t need mothering. That ship had long set sail. 

Still, Max was pretty insistent on them coming along tonight. “I’ve already told her about you,” he said, in response to the Boys’ complaints about wasting a perfectly good Friday sitting around a table and playing house when they could be off doing things that were actually fun. “Lucy said she would like to meet you all properly. And I wouldn’t want to disappoint her by turning up without you.” Despite their maker’s mild words and genial tone, the look in his eye made it very clear that their presence at this family dinner was not a request.  

"Besides,” Max continued. “Her boys will be there. This will be the perfect opportunity for you to get to know each other better.” 

The four younger vampires had all exchanged smirks, since they felt that they were already getting to know Michael pretty well on their own. But David wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to spend more time with him. There was a wildness hiding behind that Joe-normal façade. A darkness. David wanted to crack Michael open and taste it.  

Michael, he had decided, was even worth sacrificing a Friday night for. When he had shared this opinion with the boys, they had all teased him something rotten.  

Assholes, he thought affectionately as he glanced across at Marko and Dwayne who were crammed in the back seat with him. Paul had called dibs on shotgun to have control over the radio; Max insisted they were all going in his car instead of taking their bikes, but that didn’t mean they had to be subjected to Barry Manilow the entire way. Paul was currently slapping his thigh and singing along to Poison’s ‘Talk to Dirty to Me’. In the interest of keeping the peace, Max endured this in a long-suffering way, other than to keep turning the volume down. Whenever his attention was on the road, Paul would surreptitiously turn it back up again.  

Max drove along a rutted track until they came to a lodge-style farmhouse, the yard decorated with lots of wooden carvings. The boys had been here before of course, when they had dropped Michael home after their fun proved a little too much for his fledgling self to handle. They unfolded themselves from Max’s car, while their maker fussed around straightening out the wrapping on the bouquet he’d brought with him and adjusting his tie.  

The boys were dressed in their preferred style, though Max had demanded Dwayne put a shirt on for the occasion, something that Dwayne had complied with in malicious silence. The black t-shirt was Paul’s, meaning it was a size or two too tight, hugging Dwayne’s pecs. Across the front in white letters were emblazoned the words: ‘GUITARISTS FINGER BETTER.’ Max appeared not to have noticed. 

“Now boys, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you to be on your best behavior,” Max warned as he led them to the front door. The thoughts that streamed into David’s head were a reminder of what awaited them should they fail to do so: a few weeks spent clawing at the lining of a coffin buried in a shallow grave, with wild roses laid on the lid to stop them breaking out. Max had a very literal interpretation of ‘grounding’. 

One day old man. One day, David vowed, careful to keep the thought to himself.  

Just as Max raised his fist to knock on the door, who should open it but Michael? 

The half-vampire looked astonished to see them. “David?” he blurted out, ignoring Max’s attempt to greet him as if he wasn’t even there. “Guys? What are...wait.” He flicked his eyes between the four motorcycle-riding punks and the unassuming and badly dressed man in a suit and did the necessary math. “...this guy’s your dad?” In the bond blooming between their minds, David could hear Michael’s confusion over the fact that the gang had apparently been serious when they called each other brothers. ‘They don’t look anything alike...’ 

“We’re all adopted,” Marko put in helpfully, answering the unspoken question.  

Max cleared his throat. He was smiling, but if you knew him you could see there was definitely an edge to it. “That’s correct. Hi, you must be Michael.” He extended a hand in greeting. 

Michael didn’t take it, instead looking Max coolly up and down. “And you must be Max,” he said, sneering faintly.  

Max was spared from further awkwardness by the sound of heels tapping rhythmically on the carpet and the appearance of a smiling woman with short red hair. “Michael? Is there someone at—Oh, hi!” she said, hurrying over. Lucy smiled at him, before turning her attention to the four (seemingly) young men standing on the doorstep. For a moment her smile faltered slightly and as he met her eyes David could hear her thoughts loud and clear. ‘These are the boys who were in the video store a few nights ago...why would Max kick them out if they’re his sons?’ 

This lady’s smart. Guess it skipped a generation, David thought to himself. But Michael was pretty enough that it didn’t matter, he supposed. 

He gave her his most winning smile.  “Hi. You must be Lucy, we’ve heard so much about you. I’m David.” He clasped one of her hands like she was one of the debutantes he had never been allowed anywhere near as a human, and brushed his lips across the back of her knuckles. A quick glance at Michael told him that the other boy looked like he was either going to have an aneurism or punch him in the face again - it was fantastic. 

Lucy laughed, delighted. “My goodness, what a charmer! Max, you’re raising a heartbreaker,” she teased, still chuckling. 

“I try,” David said, smiling impishly. “This is Dwayne, Paul and Marko.” He nodded to each and the boys greeted her in turn, Dwayne with a nod and one of his bedazzling smiles, Marko with a grin and a little wave, and Paul with a brief hug and a kiss to each cheek, continental style.  

“I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” Lucy exclaimed, stepping back from the doorway so that they could file past her. “Please come inside, all of you. Michael honey, are you going out or coming in?” she added. 

Michael blinked; he had been staring at David so intently that when he tore his gaze away there was almost an audible rupture. “Hm? Oh right. Yeah, I was just leaving."  

Michael’s thoughts were full of Star, and it made David grit his teeth. He was not jealous; that was ridiculous. They were both his, and he didn’t mind Michael fucking her. But they could’ve at least had the courtesy to invite him to join them. 

(Okay, so maybe he was slightly miffed that Star had gotten a taste of Michael before him. Just a little.) 

“Aw, you’re not going are you Michael?” Marko asked as he stepped past Michael into the house.  

“Yeah, come on you gotta stay man.” Paul gave Michael a friendly shove, and then was quickly distracted by the novelty of his reflection in the hallway mirror. He drifted over to it. 

“You could give us a tour,” Dwayne suggested, poking at a taxidermied beaver smoking a cuban cigar.  

“That’s a good idea,” Lucy agreed, eager to have Michael stay for dinner with them all. And pleased that they already appeared to know one another and to get along so well. Max presented her with the flowers and she led him off into the dining room to go and put them into some water. 

Michael appeared torn. He wanted to see Star, yes, but the thoughts continuously leaking across into David’s mind revealed that what he actually wanted more than anything else was answers. Star hadn’t actually told him anything, and had in fact protested tearfully that she couldn’t, and that she didn’t know how to help him. But David had done this to him, hadn’t he...so maybe he could help put it right again. 

David looped his arm around Michael’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. “Come on, Michael. Stay. I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about,” he said, eyeing Michael meaningfully. His lips curled into a grin.  

After a moment, Michael nodded and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him.  

((The Boys 5 minutes later: *all jockeying for position at the mirror and standing there pulling funny faces and cracking up at the novelty. The line about Max's interpretation of 'grounding' was inspired by @marypsue's brilliant fic 'look for something left in this world'.))

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello! I hope you are having a great day/afternoon/evening/night. ^^

Can l request a Romantic Yandere Muichiro, Giyuu and Obanai with a gn darling who is like Gojo Satoru?

Thank you! ^^

Hmmm. Okay, we’re basically crossing the two classics! Gojo is a good choice tbh! Let’s go! Won’t include the exact powers but will try something else

Yandere! Tokito Muichiro

Muichiro almost feels useless at this point with how skilled and otherworldly you are. You don’t even need his protection but his Yandere senses kick in, making him rush in to protect you from the demons and the world

He can’t really control you in the ways he wants, you listen to only yourself and can’t be stopped. But that doesn’t stop him from trying to manipulate you into mindlessly trusting him

Muichiro is very affectionate towards you, patting your ego but he could care less. He wants you to love him more than anything so he clings onto you and pours out his heart every single second

He completely admires you and your skills, you are basically unstoppable and he is desperate to make you all his, his delusional mind tricks him to believe that you love him back with the way you spend time with him

“Wondering around Japan is too dangerous, stick with me. I know you better than everybody here and I can protect you better”

Yandere! Tomioka Giyuu

He is very attached to you from the beginning, he loves you and your jokester nature. He finds just the way you are really cute and he wants to be around you constantly. His obsession grows, becoming unhealthy fast

Giyuu is possessive, beyond possessive. He needs you as his so he clings onto you at every second and happily strokes your ego to ensure you will keep him around. If he is like your little affection baby, you’ll fall in love with him, right?

He will run around the world for you. He spoils you entirely rotten and kisses your ass as much as humanely possible. His love for you is as rotten and he just doesn’t care how horrible he comes out as, he doesn’t want to let you go

Giyuu is willing to throw hands for you whenever people annoy you, sure you can handle yourself better than him, but nobody should be trying to damage your angelic presence and he’ll beat others into submission behind your back. Whatever he must do, he cares less

“I’m… not twisted, I’m doing all I can for you because you are the love of my universe. I’ll give my life for you, I won’t stop chasing you… ever”

Yandere! Iguro Obanai

His obsession stems from impression, he is so unbelievably impressed by your skills. You are truly the honoured one and he feels just as honoured to be able to spend time around you. He needs to be your one and only

Obanai is defensive over you, getting furious about your arrogance. You truly believe you’re completely fine but he can’t stand that, the world is so dangerous. He needs for you to stay alive and he will do whatever he must do, kill, beat, stalk. He’ll do it all so he can finally ask make you take his hand in marriage

Obanai is a worshipping Yandere, he worships you like you’re some undead god. With the shrine he made of your disregarded clothes, nicknacks and trash, he spills all his twisted love to you to satisfy his desires and heavily admires your eyes. Glowing, sky blue, almost patterned like clouds, you and him match in the ‘beautiful eye’ category

Murder is definitely not above him at all, he will happily spill blood and flaunter the hearts to you, like a wild predator bringing a victim to it’s mate. He can’t process your disgust towards his actions as his head flips it as your amazed by his dedication to you

“Of course, my love. You are worth all this work, worth everything I can possibly give you. Just tell me who’s annoying you and I’ll drop them”

[anjuyn]

(this dude got lost in time and space again)

During this time, I have studied the vampires as a cultural phenomenon among various mythologies a little bit, so that I might get to know someone better (guess who it is the first time).

Therefore, here's interesting and intriguing facts about vampires, just for general development (or suddenly you want to write a "real vampire rei sakuma" au).

Well well~

1. Despite the reference of vampiric creatures in ancient civilizations, the folklore of the creature known today as the vampire originates almost exclusively from southeastern Europe of the early 18th century. At the same time, mass persecution of people on charges of vampirism began (this is probably what Rei says in one of the stories of the event when he talks about the persecution of his family. There are more and more hints that the Sakuma clan comes from from Europe).

2. In most cases, vampires (according to the beliefs, obviously) are the ghosts of evil creatures, suicide victims or witches, as well as people who died unnaturally, but they can also be created by an evil spirit inhabiting a corpse, or a vampire bite. In Slavic and Chinese traditions, any corpse that an animal jumped over, especially a dog or cat, could have become one of the undead (not really on the subject, but remember Koga and his dog Leon. it's just fun to think about it).

3. The vampires were lying in a coffin with their left eye open, wrapped in a shroud (Rei: —_O)

4. Judging by many mythologies, vampires suffer from arithmomania, that is, an acute need to count their actions or objects in the environment. For example, Chinese narratives say that if a vampiric creature came across a bag of rice, he would have to count every grain. This weakness was the human way to keep vampires in their coffins until morning.

5. According to folklore beliefs, corpses considered to be vampires usually looked healthier than expected, plump and with virtually no signs of decomposition. This is strikingly different from the pop-cultural image of a vampire depicted as a pale, thin, bony creature.

6. Folklore vampires could make their presence known by engaging in minor poltergeist-style activities such as throwing rocks at roofs or moving household items and pressuring people in their sleep (OMFG SECOND YEAR REI SAKUMA PFFT—)

7. One method of finding a vampire's grave involved leading a virgin boy through a graveyard or church grounds on a virgin stallion. The horse would supposedly balk at the grave in question (in the enstars canon, by the way, drinking the blood of a virgin boy was part of the Easter ritual of the Sakuma clan)

8. The objects that protected against vampires were garlic (which is more typical of European legends), sunlight (not always), wild rose stalk, hawthorn and various sacred things for believers. Some traditions also state that a vampire cannot enter a house without an invitation from the owner; after the first invitation, they can come and go whenever they want. (This, by the way, was repeatedly mentioned by Rei).

9. It is also believed that vampires avoid mirrors, since due to the absence of a soul, vampires don't have a reflection.

10. It is also believed in some cultures that vampires can send nightmares to people.

[animentality]

Alright, so people asked about the haunted castle one shot I want to DM for, so here goes.

Premise:

You live in the kingdom of Miasmatos, a tumultuous land rife with political unrest ever since it became plagued with unpredictable magic storms. Where before no one would dare stand against the king, or his circle of dark mages and knights, now there are whispers of peasants overthrowing their landlords, religious orders rebelling against the divine right of kings, wielding fearsome magic beyond his understanding, and ambitious merchants, funding private armies of their own. 

On the fringes of Miasmatos, farther out that any other feudal domain, resides the manorial estate of Desidirae…only, no one is sure who resides there now, not after a ferocious magic storm passed over its walls five years ago. 

There are whispers that the landlord was overthrown, that the peasants were slaughtered when they tried to rebel, and yet, nothing has entered or left the domain for half a decade, neither peasant, nor noble. Many have traveled to Desidirae, hoping to discover what happened, or take what remains, but none have returned. 

You have arrived at the gates of Desidirae, closed, but unlocked and unguarded. You have walked the main streets, observing its vacant houses and abandoned shops, looking for signs of a struggle or a rebellion, but finding nothing at all to indicate what happened to its populace, not even a single corpse. It appears as though the people simply vanished one day…except, when you wander in and out of homes, you find fires lit, doors ajar, unspoiled food set on tables, as if the residents have only just left. 

Now you stand before the great wooden doors of Castle Cavaecor, the seat of political power for the domain, a foreboding dark dwelling cloaked in a thick fog, its towers and battlements obscured by a rather unnatural looking black cloud. There are lights flickering inside the castle, flashing gently through windows, but if you look too closely at any of them, they fade away, leaving nothing but a gaping void. You are here with a strange, colorful cast of misfits, the only people you could find who would be willing to assist you in your endeavors. But none of you know each other particularly well, and truthfully, no one comes to Desidirae with something to lose. 

You all have your own agendas, and should things turn sour, you will all do whatever it takes to survive and achieve your goals. Not a single person has survived Desidirae yet, but maybe you'll be the first.

Maybe.

Alright that's the premise.

So here are the character presets.

I plan on letting my players do whatever they like, though, these are more like guidelines on characters that they can pick and alter. I have plans for all the presets, but I absolutely can adjust to whatever my dnd group would want to play. I have many twisted ideas...anyway.

Cleric - You are an unholy priest of Bane, and you despise those who would overthrow their rightful masters. You suspect that no one is still alive inside of Desidirae, and the domain is cursed, although you do not know if the peasants, mages, foot soldiers, or forces unknown are responsible. Your duty is to cleanse the domain, so that it may be re-taken by the king, and made useful once more. You will tame whatever wild magic dwells within, and you will put down any heretics you find, living or undead. You have a great affinity for speaking with the dead, and a talent for emotional and psychological manipulation. No one knows that you are a Cleric of Bane; they assume you're nothing more than a healer, a soothsayer, but that's just how you like it.

Fighter - You are a hired mercenary, supporting the work of the black market merchants of Lucrum, who hope to expand their influence and obtain more land for themselves. Many tried to warn you that Desidirae is haunted by forces more powerful than mortal comprehension, but you laughed at them, for you do not believe in ghosts, and even if you did, you would not fear them. Why should you? They do not wield swords, and even if they did, yours is better.

Paladin - You were once a devout servant of the king, rising from the peasantry to knighthood through hard work and well-honed talent, sworn to protect him and his family from harm. But while you were away, serving in the capital, your brother rose to power in your domain, worming his way into noble circles with his cunning and scheming. He convinced you that the divine right of kings was a lie, and that he and his council deserved to rule instead. So you abandoned the king and broke your oath in order to train the Emissaries of Peace, your brother’s own personal infantry of warriors with the intention of uniting the kingdom - under your brother’s rule instead. But once you had a small, but loyal and powerful army, your brother betrayed you, poisoning you and selling you to merchants, who intended to take you back to the king in chains. However, you broke free and swore that you would have your revenge. Now you approach Castle Cavaecor, the domain your brother was too afraid to even pass, much less enter, hoping to understand and absorb its dark power, and return home with a vengeance.

Rogue - You are the best thief currently working for the black market merchants of Lucrum, stealing valuable jewelry, vital battle plans, and powerful magic items. But secretly you long to abandon your life of crime and live the simple life with your family. You try to discreetly gather funds and supplies to aid your escape and re-settlement away from the fighting, but the Lucrum are ahead of you: they have imprisoned your family and are threatening to kill them if you do not perform one last heist. So here you are, at the gates of Castle Cavaecor, with one objective: obtain the Nemesis, a dark magical sword that once hung on the wall behind the lord of Desidirae’s bedroom. Be careful, though. The fighter has his eye on you, as a mercenary of the group you tried to betray, and the dark paladin might have a hankering for that dark sword too...

Wizard - You don’t remember much about your life before you crawled out of the gates of Desidirae five years ago, covered in blood, skin badly burned and twisted. You remember flashes of red, screams of agony, and the distant roar of something inhuman and sorrowful, but there’s nothing else, not unless you count the spellbook on your hip, filled with your own handwriting. You know from reading your own spells that you must not have been a good person, but you’ve left that mysterious past behind you, choosing to tear out the more powerful, evil spells and throw them away. Now you just want to live the peaceful life with the lover who found you all those years ago, stumbling outside of Desidirae, and patched up your wounds, welcoming you into their home. But even though you’d moved on, they had not, insisting that you must reclaim your past, lest it reclaim you. But you told them no, repeatedly, until one day, you find their side of the bed is cold. They went to Castle Cavaecor to solve the mystery of your past on their own, and never returned. Now, you stand before the same castle, hoping to find them and confront the past you so desperately wish you could escape.

Wild Magic Sorceror - For your entire life you have struggled to keep the magic bubbling within from boiling over, burning anyone who dares get close to you. But your powers are becoming stronger every day, and you’re afraid that you won’t be able to control yourself for much longer. You have been studying the magic storms for years, trying to understand their, and your, origin. But you haven’t had much luck, chasing after the dangerous phenomena. It’s a tricky business, highly unpredictable, and you’ve yet to gather any information that could actually help you. You now stand before Castle Cavaecor with the others, wondering if perhaps this castle holds the secret to your past, and the savage power that courses through your veins.

Ranger/ Druid: You are a merciless custodian of the wilderness, disgusted by the avarice of lords, the bloody tyranny of the foolish king, and the expansion of feudal territories into the safety and solitude of the woods. You seek to understand the magic storms, not because you want to prevent them, but rather because you revel in the chaos and destruction of structures and society. Although you do not care for castles,  you are oddly compelled to join this strange group of adventurers, for something calls you from deep within, and it feels both natural and unnatural. Whether human, creature, or incomprehensible extraplanar entity, you long to release it from its cage. 

Warlock - You grew up a peasant of Miasmatos, a casualty of its restless political infighting. You have been the victim of invading neighbors, cruel lords, and the tyrant king your entire life, forced from anywhere you might call home. But you are also ambitious, conniving, a true survivor, drawing on your wits, charms, and will to not only survive, but thrive. You seek power wherever you can take it. Perhaps that is why, late one night, a dark voice whispered in your ear just before you slept, promising you power in exchange for mortal souls. It refused to tell you its name or its origin, but in an act of good faith, it bestowed upon you powers of the undead. You are here today because your patron wills it, and although you have no issue whatsoever with killing, you would prefer the path of least resistance. As you stand before the castle, you plan on feeding your patron any rogue souls that you encounter, in the hopes of gathering more magical power for yourself. But you should be careful, because you do not know exactly what kind of souls you're feeding to your patron, nor do you even know the identity of your patron. Tread as carefully here as you have tread your entire life. And trust no one, your patron included.

And uh.

There.

That's my one shot idea so far.

You start off on the steps of the Castle.

And fin.

[ornii]

My Better Bitter Half, Part 10

Chapter 10: Dance Dance!

“Dr. Kinbott tells me I should get out more. Says I need to open my mind to new people and experiences. Who am I to argue with her professional clichés?”

The Jericho Morgue houses the corpses of those lost in the town. The security system was tough but, effortlessly disposed of by black gum. Thing coats it, which allows the twins to sneak in undetected by the Camera. They slip into the Morgues chambers and Wednesday turns to her brother as they approach the containers.

“While I do the autopsy, you find the files of the monster's other victims and make copies.”

“Seriously?” (Y/n) said.

“Don't pout. Your scalpel skills are questionable. Do you remember my 13th birthday, when Uncle Fester gave me that cadaver?”

“First of it, our 13th birthday. And no I don’t.”

“You sliced right through that man's carotid.” She said, he scoffs.

“Because you decided to steal my embalming tools. But fine, I’ll make sure we get what we need.” (Y/n) walks into the other room across the hall. The twins separate and begin preparations, (Y/n) and Thing head inside the office and search cabinets for the lastest date. Finding one a day or two ago of this year, he grabs what he can and begins to print it off. He checks the papers and an odd coincidence begins to form.

“Lost hand… head? Eyeball?… they all seem to have some form of dismemberment.. but why would a wild monster do that?” He says, he finishes the printing just in time for car lights to catch his eye. He dashed into the autopsy room.

“Wednesday! Someone’s here!” He yells

“Calm down. Who's coming?” She said, the twins come up with a plan and execute it. The Sheriff and the Doctor who oversees autopsies enter

“Appreciate you coming back to the office, Doc.”

“No problem, Sheriff. Whatever I can do to help. Whatever or whoever is responsible for these killings... In all my years, I've never seen injuries like them. I thought you should see this before I issued my report on the latest victim. It's a real noodle-scratcher. The killer cut off two toes from the victim's left foot. Best guess, they used a surgical saw. The final autopsy report's still pending.”

“Minute you're done, send it straight to my desk.” The sheriff responds.

“Happy retirement, Doc.” The sheriff leaves as the doctor nods. He turns and notices on the table, a covered body. He approaches and pulls back the cover to (Y/n), dead. The doctor sighs. He pulls further back to see his body, with off scars and bruises, many healed.

“Hm.. many broken bones, scars.. you went though a lot. I suppose you can wait—“ he notices a chill in the air, and looks to the fridges As one is open, the slowly walks over towards it. He opens it and pulls the corpse back, and it’s Wednesday.

“I don't remember this one coming in. Full rigor. You've been dead a while. Guess you won't mind waiting another day for me to cut you open.” He smiles and locks her inside, and finally takes his leave. Thing, hiding in the fake skull pops out and heads to Wednesday. He pulls her from the fridge.

“Five more minutes. I was just getting comfortable.” She says, Thing angrily prances around, and Wednesday rolls her undead eyes.

“Fine. You know he won’t stay dead.” She says and gets out of the fridge and approaches her brothers corpse. She calmly looks over him.

“My Brother, for all his dreadful Traits, is annoyingly resilient. He’s cheated death more times than one can count, and his ability to seemingly resurrect himself from death is impressive, so long as he can get a jumpstart.” Wednesday thinks, and a small creepy smirk creeps along her face as she draws a taser.

“Luckily, I have just the thing.” She jams the taser into his chest, shooting lighting though him, and like Frankenstien, he rose up gasping for air. The once dead look in his eyes was full of life now.

“Never… Again.” He says growling.

“Not unless I want to, now put your clothes on.” She said, leaving the Morgue, (Y/n) grumbled as he stood off the table and grabbed his clothes in the corner.

The next morning, Wednesday had the files; everything printed out upon a plaster, analyzing the information, Enid approached, obviously concerned.

“When I suggested giving your side of the room a makeover, I did not have Ted Bundy's Pinterest in mind.”

“Still not as creepy as your stuffed unicorn collection.”

“Is this why you snuck out last night?” Enid asks. L

“My Brother and I made an unsanctioned trip to the morgue to copy the files of the monster's victims.”

“Okay, there are so many levels of ew in that statement, I don't know where to begin.”

“I need to get inside its head. Discover any patterns or anomalies. I've already made a big discovery. Turns out all of the monster's victims have had body parts surgically removed. The first one a kidney, the second a finger...” Wednesday shows Enid the graphic photos.

“Wednesday, I don't feel...”

“Third a gall bladder. And the bearded man from the meeting house, two toes. Do you understand what this means? These murders aren't mindless. He's collecting trophies like a seasoned serial killer. It's impressive, actually.—“ Wednesday hears a thud, and she turns around to Enid on the floor. Suddenly, (Y/n) enters with his backpack.

“Enid, Wednesday, Pardon the intrusion I found—“ (Y/n) stops talking as he sees Enid on the floor.

“… what did you do?” (Y/n) asks In his sister’s deadpanned voice

“I did not do anything to your pet.” Wednesday said.

“I Did nOt dO aNyThInG—“ (Y/n) says mocking his sister. “If you were literally anyone else I’d believe that.” He says, he kneels down at Enid and picks her up.

“Fetch the smelling salts, she’s going to be late for class.” He says and walks to her side of the Dorm. Wednesday stares with an off sensation, another girl has her older brothers attention besides Her, perhaps this is what we call, Jealousy.

In Ms Thornhills Herbology Class, the lesson continues as planned. Thornhill showing off a particularly evil looking plant.

“While most plants reward their pollinators with sweet nectar, many carnivorous varieties turn to sеxual trickery or deception. The orchid produces a pheromone that mimics a female insect, luring the males in. Now, once the plant is pollinated, what do the male insects get in exchange?”

“Nada. Just like all the guys at the Rave'N.” Bianca says out loud, which gets a few laughs from the student body.

“Okay, okay. I know you're all excited about Saturday, which is why I haven't assigned any homework. But I do still need volunteers for the decorating committee. Anyone interested, come and see me up here.” Thornhill says, Xavier turns to Wednesday.

“You're not gonna volunteer? Aren't you pumped about disco balls and spiked punch?There's even a DJ. MC Blood Suckaz.”

“I'd rather stick needles in my eyes. I'll probably do that anyway.”

“Or you could invite someone and have a little fun.” Xavier replies, he gets up to leave and Wednesday can notice his lack of limber, something is wrong.

Inside the local Coffee spot, (Y/n) sat gingerly, reading the Autopsy reports.

“Severed Limbs and Organs, none the same.. like they’re building a.. body.” (Y/n) begins to piece everything together. His eyes catch from the corner, his Sister and Enid walking past, going somewhere. “Hmm..” he said, but didn’t think too much of it, as he begins to wrap up, Enid enters and spots him.

“(Y/n)!” She says walking over so giddy. (Y/n) prepares mentally for what he’s about to hear. And hides the autopsy reports.

“Enid… how are you?”

“It’s going to such a Hot girl summer!”

“It’s.. August..” he replies, She scoffs and sits next to him, getting a bit close to him, the sudden flourish of blonde hair and beauty in his face cause him to be a bit lost for words.

“Okay.. what is it?” He says, and she grabs his hand to share her excitement.

“Your sister is going to The Rav’N!” She says, which makes (Y/n) stare for a moment in literal disbelief.

“You… you mean Wednesday, right?”

“Duh, who else?”

“… We’re talking about the same person right? She isn’t the social butterfly, more like a death hornet.. that’s besides the point who would go out with my sister?”

“Well wouldn’t you?” Enid asks, which just confuses him even more.

“You’d take your sister to the dance, because that’s what family is for. Plus she’s going with Xavier anyway, so I was going to help her Shop but she doesn’t need it.” Enid explains.

“Well.. what about you?” (Y/n) asks, and She sighs.

“Ajax and I aren’t.. working out.” She admits; which was a good thing from (Y/n).

“Well… I can offer a counter suggestion.” (Y/n) said, but their conversation was interrupted by a young man, who approached.

“Is it okay if I talk to Enid?” He asks, and (Y/n) immediately cuts him off

“Anything you can say, you can say to me as well.” He said, the man awkwardly sat across from them

“Thanks. I'm—“

“Lucas Walker, mayor's son. Recently split from cheer captain, Chrissy Smothers. Cute brunette who needs to rethink her spray tan.” Enid said

“That's kinda scary.”

“I think it’s pretty cool.” (Y/n) chimes in.

“I have a nose for gossip and I follow half your grade on TikTok. Also my roommate scares you.”

“Wednesday Addams is your roommate? And you—“

“The bother.” (Y/n) says, and Lucas awkwardly nods

“The resemblance is—“ he begins.

“Off putting? Uncanny? Absolutely Terrifying?” (Y/n) says, staring right into Lucas’ eyes. Lucas tries not to look into the eyes of the abyss.

“Sure is. I know this isn't a random encounter. So, why are you sitting here, Lucas Walker?

You must want something.” Enid asks.

“I've got a friend who works at Hawte Kewture.

She overheard you're on the hunt for a date to the Rave'N. Maybe we can help each other out.” Lucas begins, (Y/n) realizes what’s about to happen, and takes the biggest leap in his life, he puts his hand on Enids and she looks a bit, taken aback.

“Apologies, but I’m taking this lovely Wolf out on the Rav’N.” He says, with a growing confidence, he turns to Enid who was getting more and more red.

“Y-yeah, I’d like to go with you too…” Enid could barely form a coherent sentence, (Y/n) turns to Lucas.

“Apologies, but it’s a no.”

“That’s fine, I have another plan. The relationship between Nevermore and Jericho is.. not the best, so if it’s cool with you, can we bring a few Jericho students to the dance? A show of good faith.” Lucas asks, (Y/n) and Enid share a glance.

Later in the day, the twins look at The Billboard Wednesday put together. This time inside the Bee hive.

“But why Dismemberment?” Wednesday asks.

“I’ve yet to figure that out either Wednesday.. but the cuts were clean, no monster could do something that complicated…”

“So we’re dealing with a Serial Killer… but no motive.

“It’s possible, no motive as you said, the victims seem sporadic. No connecting traits, attributes…” (Y/n) rubs his chin, and Wednesday taps her foot. Eugene enters the Bee hive.

“Enid wouldn't let me keep this in our dorm.” Wednesday said.

“No worries. Mi colmena es su colmena. I assume this is the creature that's been rampaging in the woods.”

“You've heard about it before?” (Y/n) and Wednesday ask.

“Rumors. Mr. Fitts banned me from bug-hunting until further notice. Claimed a bear was on the loose, which I knew was a lie. Didn't match their hibernation schedules. Speaking of monsters with sharp claws, could you give this to your roomie?” Eugene shows her a letter, (Y/n) raises an eyebrow.

“Put in a good word for me? I hear she's still sans date for the Rave'N.” Eugene says.

“Sorry to Break your heart..” (Y/n) said, “Enid and I are going together.” (Y/n) said, and Wednesdays attention turns to her brother.

“You didn’t inform me of this.”

“Because I didn’t have to?” (Y/n) said, “I dork have to inform you what I’m doing, you never told me you were going with Xavier.”

“That was a preservation of my status, I couldn’t let him know I was on to him. You are taking Enid on some fabricated “Date.” For no reason; it’s counter productive.

“You think everyone and everything that doesn’t work for you is counterproductive.”

Because Brother, We're original thinkers, intrepid outliers in this vast cesspool of adolescence. We don't need these inane rites of passage to validate who we are.” Wednesday said.

“So you're not going to the Rave'N with Xavier?” He asks smugly, She glares at him as Eugene slowly backs away.

“It's not like I like Xavier. I just have ulterior motives. Sketches are the closest thing I have to a lead to try and stop this thing.” She says, the twins turn back to the board.

“These drawings are… odd. I’ve known Xavier, but his artistic skill eludes me.” (Y/n) said.

“That circle...I think I know where that is.” Eugene pipes up, the Twins turn to him.

“Show us.”

Eugene takes the twins deep into the forest, and specifically to a cave with the same spiraling formation seen. They look at the drawing and confirm.

“It Matches..What were you doing out here?” Wednesday asks Eugene.

“Collecting specimens. This place is ground zero for hоrny gypsy moths…You think it's in there?”

“Only one way to find out.” (Y/n) walks forward first, slowly peering into the darkness of the cave.

“I'm not a huge fan of enclosed spaces. I'm claustrophobic…” Eugene backs away, and Wednesday follows her brother.

“If you hear me screaming bloody murder, there's a good chance I'm just enjoying myself.” She says, before heading inside. She creeps in and finds (Y/n) kneeling at something, looking at the ground. It’s deeply scared for rock. “This is definitely its lair, the claw marks on the ground suggest it holes itself inside.” (Y/n) explains. He shows his sister a bone.

“Venison…”

“Nothing human… It doesn’t eat them.” He says, from the corner of his eye he sees Wednesday pick up a claw.

“What is that?”

“Concrete proof. I just need to find something to match against the claw's DNA.”

“And I assume you have a suspect..”

Night falls, and it was the perfect moonlight for the Rav’N. Tyler and Enid accidentally bump into each other.

“My bad, i was waiting for Wednesday.”

“I’m waiting for (Y/n).” Enid replies, the two didn’t have to wait long, they soon looked upward to the stairs and the twins descend, Wednesday in a gorgeous black Aliana dress, adorned with jewelers to boot. Her brother matching Black pinstripe suit, gothic tailcoat and blood red vest and brooch to combo. They descend down and the two are at a loss for words.

“Wow, you look...” Tyler begins

“Unrecognizable? Ridiculous? A classic example of female objectification for the male gaze?” Wednesday says, (Y/n) scoffs.

“Ignore her pestering. She’s just being stubborn.” (Y/n) says, and looks at Enid.

(This woman has no Right being this beautiful someone help me—)

“Enid how are—“ He said, getting a much closer look at her, absolutely taken aback by her beauty. The fluent fur dress, the perfectly pink hair and her adorable smile.

“You… you look..” he says, but she grabs his hand smiling.

“You look great! Cmon we have to show you off!” Enid happily takes him away as he grins ear to ear, leaving Tyler and Wednesday alone. Enid shows (Y/n) the theme, which was mostly white.

“Is that an abominable snowman?” He asks, looking at the statue.

“(Y/n)! You can't say that, it's offensive! The correct name is Yeti.” Enid said.

“Uh.. okay? They've been extinct since the 1950s. I doubt they’d want to draw and quarter me for it.”

“Ms. Thornhill chaired the dance committee this year. She wanted the Rave'N to feel relevant. So our theme is climate crisis meets extinction event. But in a fun way!” Enid explains

“Oh, so Hell frozen over.” He says, he looks at her with a soft smirk.

“A fitting theme.”

“Enid?” A voice called out, the two turn to see Ajax with his date.

“I thought that was you. Is that your date?” He asks. And Enid sternly grabs (Y/n)‘s arm..

“Yes, and he's having the best time with me.’We are both loving this dance... together.” She says

“Sweet.” Ajax murmurs before leaving. (Y/n) turns to Enid, and notices her dismayed face.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks, she snaps out of it and nods.

“Y-yeah! I’m fine! I’ll go get us punch.” Enid awkwardly scampers over to Wednesday.

“Hey, Interesting choice of date.” Enid says, peering over to Tyler.

“I could say the same.” Wednesday replies, Enid couldn’t hide her blush.

“Your brothers great! He’s just like you… Look, at first I thought it was a good idea since I'm trying to make Ajax jealous. But now, i realize your brother is, like the perfect present wrapped up in a box!”

“Or a casket..” Wednesday replies, and Enid laughs. “As much joy as i find out of the pain and suffering he endures, I’d be a “Bad sister.” If I allowed you to toy with his heart.” She said, and Enid nods.

“You’re right, Everything he does for me, I can’t do him like that! Alright! Cmon, at least have some fun!” She says and Leads Wednesday away, the party continues, until a certain song begins to play

When the sun goes down And the moon comes up.

Goo Goo Muck By the Cramps begins to play, and Wednesday, for her all gothic melodramatic attitude, begins her own off putting dance.,


I turn into a teenage goo goo muck


Yeah, I cruise through the city And I roam the streets


Looking for something That is nice to eat

You better duck


When I show up


The goo goo muck


I'm the night headhunter Looking for some head


With a way-out body Underneath that head


Yeah, I'll get you, baby With a little luck


'Cause I'm a teenage tiger And a goo goo muck


You better duck


When I show up


The goo goo muck

(Y/n) and Enid dance together, elated, his eyes waver only for a moment to see his sister, somewhat enjoying herself, which brings a bit of joy to himself.

Most have calmed down after the dance, and Wednesday exits the dance floor to the side rooms, as Bianca sits

“Whoever invented high heels clearly had a side hustle as a torturer.”

“As my dear mother always says, "Fire tests gold, suffering tests a woman." Bianca said

“Speaking of suffering, where's your date? I didn't see you and Xavier on the dance floor.”

“We had a little tiff. About you, actually.

You don't know what it's like.”

“Being beautiful and popular?”

“Never knowing people's true feelings. If someone likes me for me.”

“What about your amulet?”

“It's not foolproof. It's a mild prophylactic, so to speak. That's why Xavier broke up with me.

He could never fully trust me. The worst part is I could never trust his feelings either. I never knew if they were real or not. You're lucky.You don't care what people think of you.”

“Honestly, I wish I cared a little more…” Wednesday replies, “My brother is the sympathetic one.

“He also has quite the looks..” Bianca chimes in.

“I can barely handle Enid drooling over him I don’t need another. His happiness makes me life sick.”

“I’m just saying your brother is.. a thriller.” Bianca says, and if on queue, a familiar song begins to play. (Y/n)s body moves almost like a zombie, perfectly mimicking a dance

It's close to midnight

And something evil's lurking in the dark

Under the moonlight

You see a sight that almost stops your heart

You try to scream

But terror takes the sound before you make it

You start to freeze

As horror looks you right between the eyes

You're paralyzed

'Cause this is thriller, thriller night

And no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike

You know it's thriller, thriller night

You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight, yeah

Ooh, ooh

You hear the door slam

And realize there's nowhere left to run

You feel the cold hand

And wonder if you'll ever see the sun

You close your eyes

And hope that this is just imagination

Girl, but all the while

You hear a creature creepin' up behind

You're out of time

'Cause this is thriller, thriller night!

There ain't no second chance against the thing with forty eyes, girl

Thriller, thriller night

You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight

Students begin to chime in, dancing as well, like an army of the undead. A hallowing voice begins to speak, emulating though the world as the song reaches its climax, (Y/n) drops down, slowly crawling towards Enid, like a zombie, until he gets on one knee, and takes her hand, looking lovingly into her eyes.

The foulest stench is in the air

The funk of forty thousand years

And grizzly ghouls from every tomb

Are closing in to seal your doom

And though you fight to stay alive

Your body starts to shiver

For no mere mortal can resist

The evil of the thriller!

(Y/n) slowly stood up, and took Enids hands, looking into her eyes, and for a moment.

“Enid.. I—“ he says stammering, but she takes the moment for herself, because this is her moment and she gives him the softest kiss on the lips. (Y/n) stares in disbelief.

“I’m sorry!” Enid begins “I wanted to make Ajax jealous cause I knew he’d be coming here with another girl, but I couldn’t do that to you. And Wednesday talked me into telling you the truth and I just can’t lie anymore.. do you, forgive me?” She asks, he continues to stare, before his hands awkwardly wrap around her.

“I do… it’s just..” he lets go, and tries to speak, before noticing something, red.

“Enid? Are you okay? You’re blessing.”

“What?” Enid feels something rush down here face as she sees red. Soon the room begins to pour red, seemingly blood, which grossly stains the white themed party. (y/n) looks around At everyone panicking, and Enid spots Lucas leaving and follows.

“Enid? Enid!” He says, “They couldn't even spring for real pigs' blood. It's only paint.” He turns to his sister, who’s smirking.

“…. Wednesday..” he says.

“No. I had nothing to do with this.” She says

“This time, I actually believe you.. give me a moment.” He walks off to chase after Enid, as she spots Lucas with other Jericho boys, laughing as they poured the red ink into the schools water supply.

“You did this?” Enid said, holding back tears, “I can't believe I fell for your crap. Enid, after Crackstone's statue... I thought you were different.”

The Malicious laughter of the boys echo in the night, “Wolf out! Wolf out! Wolf out!” They chant, before (Y/n) exits. He see Enid on the verge of tears and the bullying monsters, he storms over.

“Get away from her, now.” He says, Lucas looks around, seeing the situation slowly rise in tension, the three other boys surround (Y/n).

“Or what? You gonna cry to your Mommy? Freak.”

“I bet his moms an ugly ghoul or something.”

“Ha! Is he right? I bet your dad is just as gross.”

“You’re gonna look like it when we’re through with you.”

(Y/n) said nothing for the moment. He calmly took the blood on his face and combed his hair back with it.

“You are Hopelessly outnumbered..” he says, the boys chuckle.

“Really? Just you, Asshat.”

“No, it isn’t.” He takes a deep breath, and looks down. They look down as well, as if the bowels of hell opened up, glowing hands slowly begin to erupt from the ground, swiping at boys. They scream and scamper about to abound being dragged to hell. But hands grab them, ghosts and ghouls alike hold them in place, ready to drag them to the underworld. (Y/n) calmly turns to Lucas.

“Take your friends, and never come back here. Or I will drag you to hell personally.” With a snap of his fingers, the hands let them go and scurry off. He looks down at the hands.

“I thank you for your assistance, and yours mister Poe.” He says to a ghostly man. Who resembles the fallen poet, he nods

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary” the ghost says.

“... Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.” (Y/n) replies, and the ghosts fade. (Y/n) turns to Enid and rushes to her side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and she hugs him with no hesitation. He gladly accepts her affection, until her claws accidentally come out, poking his back

“Ow ow Enid! Claws!” He says and she lets go.

“I’m sorry! Sorry..” the two stand there, “I.. I’ve never gotten this far with a woman.” He admits. “What is, the next step?” He asks

“Oh. We should, uh...We should probably take it slow.” Enid says, and offers her hand, and he holds it.

“I can do.. slow.” He says with a smile, it quickly fades though, as Bianca comes in, spotting him.

“(Y/n)!” She says

“Yes? We Found the fools behind the prank..”

“No it’s not that!”

“What is it?”

“It’s your sister.. and Eugene.”

[raaorqtpbpdy]

The Undead Adventurer (2)

When an interrupted resurrection spell leaved Danny halfway between life and death, his adventuring career should have been over. But Danny Fenton won't let something as minor as being regularly mistaken for a member of a zombie horde, or kidnapped by an unknowable monster of death stop him from becoming the strongest adventurer in the world with his best friends by his side.

For the following prompts:

His head spun. He couldn’t see past the light above him. What was it? [from @q-gorgeous]

Fantasy/rpg setting. Danny died, but the resurrection spell went wrong, and now he’s trapped as something not quite dead but not fully alive either. Not that he’d ever let that stop him from becoming an adventurer, even if he does get mistaken as a resident dungeon monster by other adventuring parties every now and then… [from @lexiepiper]

Danny catches the eye of something he shouldn't. (Eldritch affection or soft horror encouraged) [from Ventisette Stars]

Read also on AO3

Chapter 2: Coastal Combat (first chapter | next)

[Warnings for violence, some explicit language, and themes of death]

After some needling, Danny did agree to take some downtime days to rest, and prepare for their next adventure. They checked into an inn for a few nights, performed maintenance on their gear, and planned where they would go next.

"It's not a dungeon, but I heard Elmerton is having some bandit problems," Sam said.

"Bandits? Really?"

"It's a noble quest," Tucker argued.

"It's an easy quest," Danny argued. "I agreed to take quests at our level, not ten levels below it. Any bandits attacking Elmerton of all places will be desperate, inexperienced, and poorly equipped. The greenest adventurers in the country could take care of it. Let's leave some quests for the newbies, don't you think?"

Sam and Tucker looked at each other like they'd just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Did they really think he was dumb enough to go for something like that. More and more people were trying their hands at adventuring every day, three experienced adventurers like themselves didn't need to be taking entry-level quests away from actual entry-level adventurers.

"Alright, well... there's a noble looking to hire body-guards," Sam proposed. "He suspects a rival family is planning to have him assassinated."

"Okay, first of all, body-guarding jobs are boring, they aren't real adventures or even real quests, and I don't know why people keep asking for adventurers to do things like that when they should be hiring mercenaries—or better yet, and here's a wild idea, actual bodyguards. Second of all, do you really want me taking on a job where there will likely be an assassin involved? And third of all, did you just ask around every tavern in Casper for the easiest, most boring adventurer gigs around? 'Cause it seems like that's what you did."

"Yeah, that's what we did," Tucker confirmed, then yelped in alarm as Sam dug her elbow into his side.

"Come on, you don't have to baby me!" Danny complained. "I've gone on plenty of adventures without dying before, you don't have to pick ones a literal child could do."

"Well, how about the dungeon outside of Amity Park?" Tucker suggested.

"You want us to go home?" Danny asked, grimacing.

The idea didn't sit right with him. He had left Amity Park for a very good reason, and Tucker had followed. And when they left, Danny fully planned on never going back. Tucker had traveled back alone a few times, to visit his family, but Danny never had and never would, if he had any say in it.

"No, not all the way home, just to the dungeon a few miles away," Tucker assured. "It's crawling with monsters, and they say there's a demon in the deepest recesses of the dungeon."

"That seems too dangerous," Sam argued.

"It's been evaluated as medium difficulty," Tucker insisted. "Which is actually slightly lower than we're qualified to take on. The monsters in it aren't actually that strong, there's just a lot of them."

"A hundred weak monsters can be way more dangerous than one powerful one," she insisted. "We should find something else."

"I actually agree with Sam," Danny said. "I don't think it would be too dangerous, but it's too close to home. If something happens and we have to teleport out fast for healing or something, I don't want to have to go to Amity Park for it."

Tucker huffed, but reluctantly gave in.

"One of these days, you two are gonna have to tell me what the deal is with your home town," Sam said.

She had joined their party a couple months after they left, and a few towns away, when they were looking for a magic-user to round out their team, and she was looking to escape her stuffy noble family's manor. As such, there were parts of their personal history she didn't know, and they hadn't been willing to talk about.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Danny replied, waving her off. "As long as we don't go back there, it doesn't matter. And I'm never going back there."

In all their years adventuring together, the only times Danny had ever sounded that solemn was when he talked about his home, or when one of them had died.

"Anyway, I'm sure you guys can guess that I want another shot at the lich who killed me, but I bet I know how you feel about that," Danny said.

"Yeah, not gonna happen," Tucker told him.

At the same time, Sam said, "No way. Absolutely not."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Eventually, the three of them settled on a quest a few towns away, near Eerie Coast. Some sea monsters were coming a little too far inland for anyone's tastes, and even climbing onto fishing boats. The current theory was that overpopulation of their usual habitat was driving them to invade elsewhere. It made sense. A few years before, hunting sea monsters was all the rage, but it had fallen out of vogue a little while ago, and Eerie Coast didn't have nearly as many adventurers managing its monster population nowadays as it once had.

Danny tried to argue that they specialized in fighting the undead and should find a quest more related to their field, but they had done a couple of sea monster quests back when they were popular, before the group decided to specialize, so it wasn't like they wouldn't know what they were doing. Although to be honest, it hadn't been so much a decision to specialize as it was that undead creatures just seemed to find them, no matter where they went.

Sam had been forced to learn purification magic and rapid decay spells out of necessity, and Tucker had had no choice but to study up on the weak points of all undead creatures so he would know where to aim with his bow. Danny, luckily, knew quite a bit about undead monsters already, including why their party seemed to attract them so disproportionately, but he was less than forthcoming with that information.

Nevertheless, they headed to Eerie Coast to take on the droves of water based monsters that were completely tanking the fishing economy there.

There, as with everywhere, they ended up fighting undead whether they wanted to or not. They'd never seen ghost octopi, swarms of fish skeletons, or zombie sea serpents before, though. This didn't seem like a simple overpopulation issue after all.

Luckily, the three of them were uniquely suited for this quest. Danny's sword was enchanted to be far more effective against undead, to the point where he could take down most minor undead with only one well-placed blow. For the huge sea monster before them, it took a few strikes, but Danny was quick, sprightly, and he could fly now, and he knew exactly where to land those strikes to take down the zombified beast as quickly as possible.

Taking quests above their skill level had been dangerous and on many occasions deadly, but it forced them to learn fast, and be quicker and more precise in their attacks. Sam took down a whole school of fish skeletons with a single, well-aimed purify undead spell, and Tucker took the time to dip his arrowheads in ectoplasm before picking off the ghostly creatures one by one and waiting for his arrows to float back to him on the current so he could do it all over again.

Hordes of sea creatures coming back from the dead wasn't the kind of thing that just happened naturally though, which mean if they didn't find the root cause, getting rid of the monsters would only be short-term solution. Once they'd earned themselves a reprieve by destroying all the immediate threats, Tucker went to collect any miscellaneous arrows that hadn't been damaged beyond usability in the fray, and Sam started to cast a search spell to trace the magic that had brought all these creatures back as undead.

Once she was done, the boys followed her into town, down a winding path, until they saw a cloaked figure run when it caught sight of them, and they gave chase.

It wasn't long before the man figure inadvertently cornered themself on a dead-end street. They stuck their arms out of their black cloak as if to cast a spell, but Tucker was faster, and shot a pair of arrows that pinned the figure's sleeves to the wall behind them. A few more arrows ensured that they were secured enough that they couldn't run anymore.

"Who are you, and why were you running?" Danny demanded, the tip of his sword trained at the man's neck.

"And what..." the man asked, "are you? You magnificent monster...."

A shiver ran down Danny's spine. He did not like the way this guy was sizing him up. The look in his eyes was predatory, despite him being the one cornered and trapped with a sword at his throat.

"You're not in a position to be asking questions," Danny said harshly. "Now tell me, who are you, and what is your business?"

The man didn't stop giving Danny that covetous look, but he did explain himself.

The man in the cloak, as it turned out, was an aspiring necromancer that had moved into town and was using the local sea life—both magical and benign—to practice his trade, while he hid from the locals and let them think it was natural overpopulation.

Sam was openly sickened by the man, lecturing him about the all the moral and ethical problems with necromancy while the man was pinned to a wall with several arrows, unable to escape her tirade.

To be honest, Danny had never really had a problem with necromancy, beyond the fact that it was a little annoying. Maybe he was just desensitized, but he didn't really see how bringing people and animals back as undead monsters was morally wrong. They were dead. No one was gonna perform true resurrection on that sea serpent so what did it care if it's body was used to serve a necromancer?

Plus, Danny didn't really think it was fair that true resurrection was totally find, but all other forms of necromancy were considered evil and taboo. It was all necromancy in the end. But Ancients forbid you even call a resurrectionist a necromancer because if you're gonna compare them to those horrible evil mages, then maybe they'll just let your friend stay dead.

As if them bringing people back to life for money was so much more noble than creating zombies to accrue power.

Anyway, Danny's opinions didn't matter much. Except for true resurrection spells, all necromancy was illegal, so the three of them escorted the necromancer to the town guard and let them deal with him.

"Can we please do a proper dungeon crawl next?" Danny requested as they cleared out the rest of the undead in the nearby seas, mostly small creatures that they'd missed in their initial culling. "Ever since that lich my eyes do not like bright lights anymore, and the sun is blinding. I would much prefer to be underground."

"Yeah, I'm actually with you this time," Sam agreed as she unwrapped a clump of seaweed from he staff with a look of disgust on her face. "Eugh... gross."

"I don't know, this isn't so bad," Tucker said. "I kinda missed coastal adventures like this."

Danny scoffed. "Says the guy firing arrows from the beach. I'm soaked. I'm gonna have to polish the crap out of my armor to keep it from getting rusted to hell and back from the salt water after this."

He slashed what he was pretty sure was the last zombie eel. Without a leader, zombies attacked indiscriminately and never retreated, so the fact that he didn't see any more of them attacking was a pretty good sign.

"Fine," the archer finally agreed. "I'm gonna need to stock up on arrows before we go, though. I only have four left that are still usable, and I can't find the supplies I need to make more myself in a dungeon like I could in a forest or something."

"Yeah, we'll need to stock up my store-room spell for a dungeon crawl too," Sam agreed. "We're not quite low yet, but there isn't nearly enough food and water for a dungeon. Guess it's time for a shopping trip. Are we done here?"

"Yeah, I think so," Danny confirmed. "I think I'll sit out the shopping trip, though. You'll probably get better service and better prices if I'm not there disturbing all the other customers."

Sam and Tucker both looked like they wanted to argue, but they also both had eyes. They could see how all the civilians in town reacted to him. His appearance was simply to abnormal for them not to be concerned, and it was a reasonable fear. If he had actually been a Zombie General, they would be in serious danger. That didn't stop their looks of fear and disgust from stinging a bit, though.

"Could you pick me up some steel polish while you're out though?" he asked. "I have a feeling I'm gonna use the last of it after today's fight."

"Yeah, sure thing," Sam told him.

He spent the rest of the evening, as he'd expected to, in their room at the inn, polishing his armor and weapons. Alone.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

I Won't Lose You

I've been told by all my friends who have played bg3 that durge runs should not be the first run of the game but here I am, doing just that. In my defense, I want to go around as a fictional dragonborn trying to kill most things and save scumming on dialogue choices for approval ratings.

Summary: The dark urge takes over when Astarion gets injured in battle. In the aftermath, you flee, afraid of what the others think of you now but Astarion goes after you to bring you back to camp and reassure you that nothing has changed.

When the arrow pierces through his shoulder, all you can see is red. Blood roars in your ears, a scream tears itself from your throat and you change. You become a different person, your legs move of their own accord, the dagger in your hand twirls and you stab downwards. Over and over again you stab, blood splattering all over you but you don’t care. You’re not thinking, everything is a blur except the one word that rings in your head.

Kill.

And so you kill, your dagger tearing into flesh and drawing blood with each sickening squelch. The metallic taste floods your tongue and you grin. You feel alive, powerful, invincible. No one can stop you, no one can take anything away from you ever again. Laughter bubbles within your chest, bursting forth as you stand there, head thrown back. Blood drips from your clothes onto the floor but you barely notice it. Euphoria thrums through your veins, you’ve killed the being who tried to take the only thing you have left from you. It feels wonderful.

You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders and raise your arms towards the sky, laughing all the while.

“Try it! Try and take him away from me!” You yell. “I’ll kill you all!”

Adrenaline rushes through your veins as the goblins flee in terror from the figure covered in blood. Your legs begin to move, feet pushing off the floor as you hunt them down, a wild gleeful look in your eyes. Your dagger slices through their skin, ripping open arteries, tearing off limbs and you only laugh harder at their screams of pain.

You slam your dagger into the neck of the goblin leader, crouching on its back as the body falls to the floor with a loud thud.

“No one can take him away from me,” you growl. “Not even the gods.”

You look up to see your companions’ various reactions, but the only one you really care about is Astarion’s. As you take a step towards him, reaching out with a bloody hand, he takes a step back, ruby eyes wide with horror. For a moment, all he can see is Cazador, drenched in blood with a grin so wide it stretches his face, and then he blinks and you’re standing in front of him, a look of hurt in your eyes.

Before your name can fall from his lips, you’re gone, running into the nearby forest. Everyone turns to look at him, the same question in their minds: what did he do?

Back in camp, Astarion tries to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest as Shadowheart heals his injury. He can’t shake the look you gave him before running away, the fear that filled your gaze. He recognised the look, after all, it was the same as the one he wore as Cazador’s spawn – the look of despair.

“I’m going out for a walk,” he says and leaves the camp before anyone can say anything. In all honesty, he has no idea how to find you, all he knows is that he has to. He can’t leave you alone to fend for yourself, especially not in that condition of yours. Letting out a sigh, he makes his way back to the battle site. He can try starting from there, track the scent of your blood and hopefully find you before anything else does.

When he reaches the site, he notices a lone figure sitting by the bloodstained rubble, their knees hugged against their chest.

“Y/N,” he calls out. You look up, and then quickly look back down, curled even more into yourself. Astarion feels his undead heart ache at the sight of your current state. You’ve always been the life of the party – cheerful, upbeat, optimistic. He’s the one who is broody, sitting in the corner and staring at everyone else and yet here you are, sitting all alone in the cold night with no fire to keep you warm.

“May I inquire as to why you have stolen my role as the broody rogue?” He seats himself next to you whilst maintaining some distance. You keep silent, staring into the distance.

“Come now, darling. Let’s head back to camp, the others miss you dearly, not as much as they miss me of course but –”

“Leave.” Your voice wavers. When he doesn’t move, you repeat your words a little louder. “I said leave.”

“But why, darling? You’re clearly cold and hungry, the camp has both fire and food. Don’t tell me you plan on freezing to death while starving? It’s not a very comfortable way to go,” he tuts. “You should choose a better way of dying.”

“I deserve it,” you mutter. “After what I did.”

“After what you did? You killed the goblins and protected the weak, I don’t believe any of that is deserving of such a slow death.” Astarion attempts to lighten the mood but your face remains sullen.

“You know what I’m talking about. I saw it, the way you looked at me. You don’t want me anymore, you shouldn’t. I’m a monster.” Your voice cracks, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“That’s not the worst thing I’ve seen,” his voice drops to a whisper. “And my feelings for you haven’t changed in the slightest. I still want whatever it is that we have, this weird relationship of ours. Nothing will ever change my mind about it. Your appearance simply…reminded me of something I’d rather forget in that moment, but the situations couldn’t be more vastly different.”

Astarion reaches out with a hand, simply holding an upturned palm towards you. A simple gesture, but one filled with so much meaning between the two of you. You stare at it, a hand slowly reaching out before pulling back again when you see how bloodstained your hand is.

Seeing as you are still in no mood to talk, he continues. “Whenever Cazador was covered in blood, it tended to be my blood. Usually it was after he had finished torturing me for whatever sick reason he had and he would smile at me, asking if I would be his good pet. You were covered in goblin blood, vowing to kill anyone even the gods if they tried to harm me. You were protecting me, not harming me, and I am forever grateful for that.”

Astarion takes your bloodstained hand and presses it against his cheek, leaning into the warm feeling, “I need you, Y/N.”

You feel a fresh wave of tears prick at the corners of your eyes, biting your bottom lip to stop the cascade. He shifts closer to you and leans in, ready to pull away should you flinch but you remain still, looking him in the eye and so he wraps himself around you, holding you tightly.

The dam bursts open and you weep, clutching at his tunic. Ugly tears dampen his sleeve, ruining his perfect appearance but Astarion doesn’t care. He’d do anything for you, just like how you’d do anything for him. The vampire spawn rests a reassuring hand on the back of your head while the other rubs circles on your back as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Right now, only you matter, and if you needed a shoulder to cry on, he would be that shoulder.

“I can’t lose you,” you sob through the tears. “I’ve lost everything else already, I can’t lose you too. WIthout you, I…I don’t know what to do. You’re the only one who keeps me going.”

Astarion presses his lips to your head, closing his eyes as he takes in your sweet scent, “I can’t lose you either, Y/N, and I promise, we will remain by each other’s side forever.”

His words make you cry harder and you bury yourself into his chest, crying until you have nothing left to give and lie there panting, cries reduced to sniffles. Astarion kisses away the tears that remain on your cheek, lips lingering longer than necessary with each kiss before pressing his forehead against yours.

“All these years, I’ve always wondered if anyone would ever care about me to the point where they would do anything to protect me, and now I’ve found my answer in you,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t be happier knowing that you would choose me over everything else.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back. “Thank you, for accepting me after seeing what I really am.”

“Any time, dearest.” He continues to cradle you in his arms, gently swaying from side to side. As your eyelids begin to flutter shut, he decides that tonight, it can’t just be you who is vulnerable. You trust him enough to drop your guard to this extent around him, he wants to repay the favour.

“I had a nightmare about you, just the other night.” He gently pushes your hair out of your face, tracing your jawline. He’s been wanting to keep this a secret, afraid of scaring you but since you had challenged the gods themselves, perhaps a vampire wasn’t that scary in comparison.

“Did I look hot in it?”

Astarion blinks in surprise. Maybe he was rubbing off on you too much. Amusement colours his face as he gives your cheek a poke and pouts. “First you steal my role as the broody rogue in the party and now you try to take my place as the residential flirt?”

“It’s all your fault,” you huff good naturedly, folding your arms across your chest. “You’ve been a terrible influence on me.”

He smiles softly, giving you a peck on the lips, “I suppose I have. Although I must say, you have a long way to go before you can ever reach my level.”

“I can’t possibly put you out of a job, can I? Whatever will I do to keep my vampire lover around then?”

“You simply need to exist, darling. That is all.”

Your gaze softens and you press your lips against his, kissing him deeply.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” You ask once you reluctantly break away from the kiss to breathe. He nods, swallowing hard.

“Cazador had you. He threatened to kill you unless I returned to him, threatened to turn you into one of his spawn just like me and make you suffer for an eternity while I watched. You swore and cursed at me, saying all this was my fault, that it was all because of me that you were now on the cusp of being turned into a vampire spawn, and I –” His fingers tremble. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Star –”

“I hesitated! I thought about putting myself before you, and I –”

“I want you to do that.”

His eyes widen, “darling, you can’t possibly –”

“Star, you’ve spent far too long putting everyone before yourself. You need to start putting yourself before others from time to time, to stand up for yourself. I want you to live your own life, not someone else’s. And if Cazador ever comes for us, well I won’t let him separate us. We’ll have each other’s backs as we always do, and he won’t stand a chance.”

You say it with such certainty that Astarion almost believes you, but a nagging voice in the back of his head reminds him of how strong Cazador is. Yet, looking deep into your eyes and seeing your resolve, a small part of him dares to hope again. Maybe, he really could stand up against his master with you by his side. Maybe one day, he really could be free, but for now, he’s more than content to simply hold you in his arms, feeling your warm embrace and his undead heart soaring.

[thatoneaceinthecorner]

RQG Art Masterpost

Hey guys! So recently I've had a wave of notes on some of my old rqg art, and a few new followers. I got really nostalgic about rqg and decided I wanted an easier way to access my rqg-related art (other than the dumpster fire that is tumblr's tagging system), and I wanted other people who are just finding my art to have an easy way of looking at the rest, if they want to. So I dug through everything and made a masterpost! This post contains links to all the rqg art I've ever posted on tumblr, as well as a couple images that I couldn't find the original posts for, despite all the digging. It's loosely organized, emphasis on loosely, but I hope it should be fun to look through if anyone ever feels like it. Spoiler warning for the whole show, just in case anyone new isn’t done with their first listen. There's also stuff in here that's pretty old and that I don't necessarily love anymore, but seeing how my skills progressed over time is still pretty neat. This is a long post, so I've put all the links under the cut. Enjoy!

My top three pieces and why they're my favorites

General:

Shoin's sketch of London

RQG Inktober: Scars

Resurrection Ritual in the Ursan Village

Zolf Smith, cleric of what comes next (comic)

Alex's horrible Barret Monster with knife arms

Ada and Tesla in their lab with the Babbage brain

"Why didn't you do more" (it's all your fault comic)

Blue-veined arm in Other London

Zolf and Azu hear the hivemind

Sasha and Cicero leave Rome behind them

Apophis in human form

Party camping outside the Garden of Yerlik

Kantu!! Because I thought they were cute

Also these two drawings, the ones I couldn't find the original posts for. Azu giving Hamid a piggy-back, and a really old drawing of Azu in Carter's mind museum.

Sasha Racket:

Sasha hangs out with gargoyles (and sphinxes)

Sasha portrait

Goodbye, Brock

Goodbye, Grizzop

If Grizzop had lived and helped raised Sasha's kids

Sasha deserves bat wings, as a treat

"I so wish you could meet them"

My very first drawing of Sasha, post-Kafka fight

Wilde:

Wilde masterpost (yes he has his own)

"We're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars"

His brain might've popped

Wilde looking pretty (plus bonus shitpost sketch)

"Oh Wilde, you must have been so scared"

Wilde with blue veins

Wilde gets his magic back (first time I ever drew him)

Zoscar:

Wild and Zolf in the rain, epilogue

"We've got this" "Yeah, we've got this" aka Parallels

Breath of Life

Wilde's first death

Peace and comfort (for once)

Actually some more peace and comfort

And a little more

Aaand back to some angst

RQG Zine Art:

The End of the World As We Know It

How Little He Matters

Rome Is Where the Heart Is

Animatics/Animations/Videos:

Hamimatic - Immature

Zolf is the sand guardian, guardian of the sand

Wilde and Zolf in the rain but animated this time

Sasha protecting Wilde in Paris

Time lapse of some of the "Breath of Life" drawing

Ben Meredith quoting Jenna Marbles (starring Toothbrush Zolf)

Doodles, sketches, and requests:

Messy busts of the whole party (plus Wilde, obviously)

Azu and Grizzop outfit/deity swap

Never wake a sleeping Barnes (comic)

Toothbrush Zolf

Azu caring for undead Sasha

Ada mourning Babbage AU

Fun sketch page of various PCs

Domestic Zolf and Wilde

Canon-compliant under-dressed Zolf (look he's posing like the coppertone baby from that one brand of sunscreen, i thought it was funny)

Sasha and Wilde bonding time

If Sasha and Cel met each other

Sasha and Zolf, amputee buddies

Wilde in a flower crown (Everyone Liked That)

More domestic Zolf and Wilde

Sasha playing with Hamid's twin brothers

Sasha looking after Grizzop's kids

Zolf and Wilde hugging

Sasha and Skraak, dynamic duo

Barnes and Carter hugging

Kobold in the kitchen with Zolf

Ada holding down the fort

Happy Hamid

Cel and Grag

Wilde and Hamid high-five

[frenziedslashers]

(Thank you for answering my ask. :) You’re very kind. I’ll try not to let my scattered thoughts get carried away, lol! If you have any questions or anything, please let me know!)

So, what I’m thinking is… Since I’m low-key kinda tired of seeing all these survivor type readers, I’d like to see an extremely terrified, skittish, and introverted reader. A reader who is weak. A reader who is deathly afraid of zombies & people, for very personal reasons… I was thinking of some idea like this: Daryl encounters the trans dude reader by chance. He might hear some muffled crying in the trees outside Alexandria, and see a small pack of the undead clawing at something beyond their reach. It’s that guy. His body is frail, his limbs look like they could snap in half with just a touch. The smell of ganja wafting from him like sea waves. One thing interesting about the dude, besides the permanent drug scent, is that he’s carrying around a duffel bag filled to the brim with CD’s, and a dinky CD player. Joints & vapes shoved deep into the pockets of the worn bag. Maybe something about the reader might spark a tiny amount of interest in Dixon? Maybe there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to the newcomer of the group? Maybe him and Daryl bond over similar tastes in music? Reader is antisocial as all get-out, but he is never snappy when spoken to. His voice is as quiet as wind whispering through the trees, so it’s difficult for others to hear him properly, and they’d have to ask him to repeat himself a couple times.

(I’m sorry, I’m not the best with describing what I want… 🥲 I’ll try to summarize down here:)

Daryl encounters a stoned, scared as shit trans reader who is stuck in a tree, outside Alexandria’s walls, and the others invite him in. Him & Dixon bond over similar life experiences and music? You can do what you want to with the rest. :) I’d love this short story to be filled to the brim with fluff! And slow burn would be amazing, too. Daryl & reader slowly getting used to each other & other people. And then that turns into something neither one of them would’ve expected: Love. <3

You Know You're Right;;

A/N: Yes! Of course! And thank you so much for this ask, I love this idea so much you have no idea 😭 I have been wanting to write a fic like this for a while but couldn't come up with a solid idea (the thought was there, but not a plan if that makes sense?) So this made me so happy when you sent it in, thank you 🫶

Pairing: Daryl x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Daryl gets a little snappy and rude but warms up, possibly ooc Daryl?, Drug usage (Marijuana), making out - nothing more, Daryl gets a tad bit sappy because I say so, let me know if I need to add more!

The growling only seemed to get louder with each passing second. Moans and groans that drove the hunter wild. Rick asked him to stay put, telling him 'They'll pass, they always do.' But he couldn't. Not when they seemed to be after something in the building right beside the gate. Who was to say they wouldn't draw in more? Even if it was just a damn cat they were after, Daryl was tired of it.

He opened the gate with the help of Rosita. The girl offered to come out with him, but he only waved her off. "Jus' five of 'em. Ain't nothin' I never took by m'self." He grumbled, and she sighed with a nod. She had Tara on the post that gave her leverage above the wall. Just in case things went south and Daryl needed the backup. She wasn't stupid, she knew Daryl wouldn't accept her help. She also knew Daryl wasn't doing this for Alexandria. He was doing it for himself, to get out and use his skills so he didn't feel so damn useless. She got it, she really did.

The hunter let out a sharp whistle. Daryl watched as the dead slowly turned in order to see where the noise came from. Snarling and chomping at the man as he just smirked. His hair rose on his arms while he cocked his bow back. Aiming, then firing.

Killing the dead gave him this sort of thrill. It made him feel more alive. Reminded him that he wasn't one of them and he was still breathing.

When they got too close to where he stood. His bow was slung over his shoulder with an amused hum. Knife in his hand while he held his other arm out in order to shove them away if they did happen to get too close to him. "Bring it," he dared before moving with quick and swift motions.

He drove the knife into the skull of the closest walker. Shoving its limp corpse back into the other and watching as it fell. He finished off the last one standing before stomping on the fallen one that lay beneath the other dead one. Brain matter splattered out onto the pavement below his boot. A loud crunch was heard, and soon, it was quiet again. Until he heard a soft sob from inside that damned building.

Daryl hadn't expected this to become a rescue mission. Hell, he had half a mind to leave whoever it was in there to find their way back inside the walls. It was probably one of the damn kids that liked wandering out to screw around anyways, but he wasn't like that. He was soft, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Hey," he called out. His voice was gruff as he pushed through the door after twisting the handle. "Hey, who's in here?" He questioned, holding his bow up to his eye as he scanned the room. Turning in sharp and stiff motions to be sure he wasn't walking into a trap. Or that there weren't any more dead wandering about.

"Here," the voice was so soft and meek. It was as quiet as a mouse, and he swore if there were any more dead outside moaning and groaning he would have never heard it. The soft and timid voice that came from under the table.

"Come out," he ordered, and when you didn't he sighed, lowering his bow. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, there ain't no more walkers." His voice made your breath shake. Your eyes fell shut before you slowly crawled out from under the table. Standing to your feet with wobbly and weak legs. Your backpack still strapped to your shoulders. "Please, don't hurt me, I.." you took a deep gulp, another shaky breath leaving your lips. "I don't have anything valuable. I promise," you insisted before opening your eyes to meet Daryl's.

You were so scrawny, and shaky, and he swore he could smell the weed from the door. Seeing the way your eyes looked he knew it was from you, too. He wasn't stupid. Even though he hadn't smoked or been around bud in forever, he still knew what it smelt like. That wasn't a smell he could just forget when it was the core of so many memories of his own. Memories of Merle, when they both would smoke a bowl and just chill. Or when he'd sneak out of the house with a joint he stole out of Merle's stash to just relax and get away from it all. He knew. It was almost nostalgic for the man.

"Ya ain't from here," he verified, hardly paying any mind to what you said prior. You shook your head frantically, and he nodded. "Ever killed any of the dead?" You shook your head, 'no', again, and he nodded once more. "How're you alive then?" He objected, and you shrugged.

Truthfully, you didn't even know. Half the nights you'd hide in closets of homes and smoke the weed or nicotine you'd find stashed in houses. Or just sleep the days away. That's what you were doing here. Looking for a stash that was never there and you happened to get yourself caught. Daryl was the only reason you were standing.

"Ever killed any of the livin'?" He asked, and as he assumed, you shook your head again. He only hummed in response. Studying you closely with his squinted gaze. From what he could tell you were anything but a threat. You were a stoner trying to survive the damn apocalypse. Weren't much of a talker, either. Not that he minded much, it was nice finding a straggler who wasn't about to tell him a hundred reasons as to why he should spare him. Daryl couldn't stand people who didn't shut up. At least, people he didn't know who wouldn't shut up.

"Come on, let's get ya inside. We got some food and water, ya look like yer about t'pass out." He muttered, motioning for you to head out the door first. Sure, you didn't seem like a threat, but he wasn't taking any chances either.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Staring at the man before you who could very well end this all for you. You were too scared to respond verbally to any of his questions. Too anxious that you might say the wrong thing or sound too harsh for some reason and he'd shoot you then and there. It wasn't until he offered shelter, food, and water that you finally let your shoulders relax. A deep sigh passed your lips as you lowered your hands that you had risen to show you meant no harm to the scruffy-looking man.

"Thank you," you uttered, voice still as timid as before. "Don't mention it," was all he grumbled before following after you.

You shifted from foot to foot once you were inside the gates. Two women were standing before you and you swore you could crumble away just from their questioning and judging gazes. "Is that weed on him?" the one girl asked with narrowed eyes, and Daryl shrugged. "Can ya blame 'em? It's fuckin' hell out there," Daryl snapped, and Rosita only shrugged. "I guess," she groused, taking note of the glare in Daryls' eye when she questioned you. He was good at being protective over the people he'd bring home. Especially the scared ones. She never understood why, no one did. There was a lot about Daryl that no one could decode.

"Come on, this way," Daryl motioned for you to follow him, and you nodded. "Wait, do they have any weapons?" the other girl asked, and Daryl stopped. Turning back to look at you with a questioning gaze. You looked just as scared as before, and he pursed his lips with a sympathetic gaze. "Well?" He asked, and you reached into your pocket. Handing him a small knife. "I uh.. I don't use it much. Just to open cans, really." You spoke, your voice shaky, and he nodded. Taking it from you with a nod. "I'll give it back when we know we can trust ya." You nodded in understanding. Truthfully, he could keep it and you wouldn't care. Being here was more than a fair trade for the shitty pocket knife you found in a house when this all started.

"I'm Tara," the girl who asked about the weapons spoke, and you offered a shy smile. Stammering out your name while offering an awkward wave. Daryl couldn't help but stare while he watched you introduce yourself. Storing your name deep in his mind. "This is Rosita," the other girl offered a smile and wave, which you returned with a soft 'hi.' "And, I'm sure he didn't introduce himself, he's pretty good at that. This is Daryl," Tara told you while motioning to your savior.

The way you stared up at him with that soft and thankful smile did something to him. He hardly knew you and he felt this need to keep you safe. Like he was put on this earth to find you one day and save you from those walkers and protect you from the world around you. "Hi, Daryl," he nodded, his eyes fixating on the ground before looking back up at you. "Hey." his own voice was rather bashful this time, and both Rosita and Tara watched the man with curious gazes. Something was going on inside that head of his, and it made them both smile, just a little.

Daryl was quick to drive away the awkwardness that followed after he greeted you back. The silence was driving him wild, and he was directing you back toward the house he was originally going to take you to. The whole walk there was just as quiet though, but he'd take it over the look the two women were giving him after he said 'hey' back to you. It wasn't like he said anything weird. The situation was just weird.

"Is weed not allowed here?" You blurted, and Daryl looked over at you with furrowed brows. Watching as you wrung your hands together and kept your gaze forward. "What? No. Just... No one here really does it. Ain't gonna get kicked out over it," He told you, and you sighed. "All right. I got a little scared when Rosita?" You looked at him for assurance that you said her name right, and only continued when he nodded. "Questioned me about it," He shook his head with a sigh. "She just doesn't know how to mind 'er own damn business," you lowered your head, smiling faintly at what he said.

It wasn't until the both of you were closer to the house that you spoke again. Going over what you wanted to say over and over before you got the courage to say it. "If you smoke, or uh... Want to, I could share. It's the only way I could really pay you back for saving me." He snorted a bit at that, reaching up to scratch at his chin before pushing the door to a house open. "Ain't gotta do that," you shrugged, "well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind." He was definitely going to remember that.

-----

Weeks went by, and Daryl was there to get you settled in. He was there sticking up for you when Rick questioned why he let a stranger in behind the walls after everything that's happened. Daryl saw something in you. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something. Whether it be that he thought you could be useful. Or that he saw part of the scared boy that Daryl used to be before he built up his walls. Walls that were now so high he swore not even the sun itself could peak behind them.

He did end up taking up that offer with you, too. In the five weeks you've been with them it became a ritual between the both of you, even. He'd meet you at the field close to the back of the walls, and you'd both share a joint.

The first night Daryl was almost too scared to ask if he could take up that offer. It was day seven of you being behind the walls. The two of you had gotten closer, but Daryl wasn't sure you were both close enough for him to be smoking your weed. Even if you had offered it up, he was still in doubt. If it weren't for the way you smiled at him and greeted him with those welcoming eyes he probably wouldn't have asked. You were so bashful with everyone else, hell, even afraid of some. Yet, you seemed so comfortable around him, even if you were still as timid as a mouse. He didn't understand why. Daryl was anything but welcoming, yet you seemed to like his company more than anyone else.

That night he met you outside the house on the street. There was a chill to the air that nipped at your skin, and he could tell you were a little cold by the way you'd shudder here or there. "Let's walk," he rasped, hoping the movement would keep you warm. He let you take the first hit and took the drug from your fingers before bringing it up to his own lips to inhale.

It had been so long since he'd smoked marijuana. His throat burned once the smoke drifted through it to his lungs. Offering the joint back to you while he held it in for as long as he could, before finally coughing it all out. "Holy shit, ain't smoked this shit in forever," he spoke while continuing his coughing fit, and you only snickered. Offering a bottle of water that he gladly took from you. Practically ripping the cap off before taking a swig with a groan.

Your eyes were glued to him the whole time. You finally felt like you found a person you could truly trust. A person that you didn't have to be scared of. Whether it be fear of them leaving, or fear of them hurting you. He seemed genuine, and you only hoped your judgment was right.

The weed didn't seem to make him any more talkative than before at first, but you did notice he seemed less tense. His shoulders seemed to roll forward a little, and his steps were a bit more sluggish. The crease in his brow was practically gone, and his eyes were on the sky.

"You ever think about if there's any other Earth's out there?" you asked as the both of you walked aimlessly through town, and he shrugged. "No, guess not," you smiled gently at his words, "I do, I always wonder if it's like our Earth. Like, where we're all there, but it's just, different." "Like we're there, but we got different lives?" He asked, looking over at you, watching as your smile grew and you nodded. "Yeah, exactly!" you hummed, and he nodded, staring for a moment longer, before reaching out with his hand to nudge your own.

He didn't grab your hand though, he was quick to pull his back to his side. He only wanted your attention. "Follow me, I know a place we could sit." You smiled at his words and complied. Following like a puppy beside the man you grew to trust.

"What d'ya thank you on another earth is like?" Daryl asked, hoping you would talk more about this intriguing conversation. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice more. "Well, I'd like to think I'd have my shit together," you chuckled, and he nodded, "I could smoke to that," he added while snatching the bud from between your fingers. A grunt slipped past his lips as he sunk to the ground. Taking the butt of the joint between his lips before inhaling.

You watched with a grin as he sunk to the meadowy ground. Your eyes watched as he lay down on the earth floor and looked up at you. He was something else. A man you wished you had met a lot sooner. "Ya just gonna stare or lay down with me?" He asked, and you felt your face heat up. Dropping to the ground in order to lie beside him. Keeping a distance between the both of you in order to not make it weird.

"I'd like to think the other me was a lot braver than I am, too," you muttered. Your eyes met Daryl's when you heard him shift to look over at you. "You are brave," he spoke, and you swore he sounded offended. You would have laughed at him if it weren't for how genuine his eyes looked. "If you weren't brave, ya wouldn't be here," Daryl spoke, and you shook your head, finally letting out a soft chuckle. "But I'm not brave. All I ever did was run. I've never even killed one of those things. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead right now. You said it yourself, 'how are you even still alive?' I don't even know, Daryl. I just am, not because I'm brave. Just because..." You paused, staring up at the night sky with teary eyes. Your chest rose and fell a little faster than before. "Because you fought," he spoke, reaching over to pass the drug back to you. "You may not've killed any, but ya survived. That takes guts. Y'ain't gotta kill to be brave." He told you, and you chuckled. "That's easy for you to say." And that was the end of that conversation.

Daryl didn't say a lot after that. His eyes focus on the stars above you both. He'd point at a few, asking if you thought they might be the other earth or not. You weren't sure why, but a particularly small star you had a feeling was that other earth. Pointing it out to the man with a smile. "I think it's that one. Right at the end of the Little Dipper." He snorted, and you looked over at him just in time to see him smile. An occurrence you learned fast was rare, and you cherished it. "Imagine if it was," he hummed, waving at the sky before his smile faded and his gaze turned cold.

Everything hit Daryl like a bag of bricks to the face. Everyone he ever loved who he lost. Ripped from him by whatever sick force took them from him. Merle, Dale, Amy, Sophia, Hershel, Glenn, Beth, everyone. If this other Earth was a thing, were they still there? Were they all alive and happy? Did Daryl get to meet any of them besides his brother? Did he still get beaten by his father in that life?

You watched as he scowled up at the sky. His jaw clenched, and you frowned. Wondering, but too scared to ask what was going on inside that mind of his. "I hope you saved me there, too." You spoke softly, watching his eyes dart around when he seemed to come back from his thoughts. His head turned to look over at you. Blinking a few times before his eyes completely softened. "I know I did."

That night was one of your favorite memories, and his as well. It was the night that seemed to bring you both closer. It gave you both a way to hang out. That only tightened your bond with one another.

-----

"Daryl," you called out when you caught him walking down the street towards the gates. His crossbow was strung over his shoulder. "Where are you heading?" He turned his head to meet yours, watching as you quickened your pace to walk by him.

He stopped his walk to allow you to catch up with him, too. "I'm headin' t'Hilltop. Jesus and Maggie needed an extra hand. Why ya need somethin'?" He asked with a curious gaze, and you shook your head.

A twinge of anxiety shot through you at the thought of him leaving you here by yourself, and he noticed it right away. "I ain't gonna be long. I'd offer to bring ya along, but I know ya don't really like leavin' the walls," he explained, and you nodded. He frowned when you didn't say anything.

You flinched ever so slightly when his hands grabbed your upper arms. His touch was soft and soothing though, a large contrast to how life had been treating you lately. "Hey, I ain't goin' nowhere. If ya wanna come ya're more than welcome. I got room on the bike. I always got room for ya," He told you, offering a lopsided grin, and you stared back at him as a smile of your own crept onto your face. If you told your past self you'd finally meet a man that didn't make your skin crawl when he touched you. A man that could ease away your worries with just a few simple words - he'd never believe you.

"I want to go, maybe I can help with what they need help with?" You spoke, a slight question to your voice, and he nodded with a hum. Giving your arms a light squeeze before pulling back. "'Ight, go pack a bag for a few days then, gonna be there for a bit," he added, shoving your shoulder lightly with his knuckles. Watching as you ran back for the house.

You held on tight the whole way to Hilltop. Your face was buried in his back while you clung your arms around his waist. Never in your life did you ever imagine you would end up on the back of a motorcycle, but here you were. With every bump and uneven patch of gravel Daryl hit, you'd cling a little harder to the man. Clenching your eyes and jaw shut. Praying to whatever God there was that he wouldn't crash his bike.

Daryl could tell you were panicking behind him, and he smiled a little. Reaching a hand down to hold over your hand when you would squeeze him tighter. Fingers rubbed over your arm and the backs of your hands to assure you that he wasn't about to let anything happen to you. He'd be damned if he was the reason you got hurt.

Once the bike was stopped inside the gate he practically had to pry your arms off of him. "Hey, ya can let go now," he spoke with an amused chuckle. "Ain't never been on a bike, have ya?" He concluded when you finally let him help you off the motorcycle. Nodding his head when you shook yours in response. "Well, I'll be sure to take a car next time ya come with me," he told you, reaching up to ruffle your hair before motioning for you to follow him.

Hilltop wasn't anything like you had imagined. Sure, the others had explained it to you, but it was so much more - farm-like. It was like all those video games you used to play on your phone to pass the time. The ones where you had the big fancy buildings and barns, with the crops that you harvested to sell and the animals you took care of for produce. It felt like a dream, really. It wasn't until you noticed all the people that you had never seen before that you finally felt that familiar fear and dread creep under your skin. Pushing the awe and nostalgic feelings away.

Daryl hadn't even thought of how you would react to all the new faces until he felt your hand slip into his. The action startled him, neither of you had ever really held hands before. His eyes darted down to look at your fingers that intertwined with his own. His fingers cautiously linked with your own. Giving your smaller hand a light squeeze while he brought his eyes up to look at you. Offering a soft smile when you looked at him. "I got ya, yer safe," he told you, and you nodded. You knew you were with him there, but hearing him say it out loud while squeezing your hand back only seemed to bring a wave of ease over you. It was like a blanket that wrapped snuggly around you, just that blanket was him.

Maggie greeted you both with a smile that could wash away anyone's worries. It was so sweet and kind, and it gave you this sense of hope that maybe more kind people existed in the world outside of Alexandria. "I'm so glad ya made it, Daryl," She had the same accent as Daryls, yet hers reminded you more of a farm girl. It had this cowgirl vibe to it that you couldn't quite explain, and it made you smile a little to yourself.

You watched as Daryl pulled his hand from yours briefly to greet her with a hug. He was quick to return to your side, his hand grabbing at yours again. He motioned to you with his head, introducing you to the woman as he introduced her to you.

"Nice to meet you," you muttered, offering your other hand to shake, but she ignored it. Smiling at you before pulling you in for a hug that definitely caught you by surprise. "Any friend of Daryl's is a friend of mine," she spoke before pulling away. She didn't want to assume that the both of you were dating, but she could tell that something was going on. Daryl wouldn't just hold anyone's hand.

"How about you show 'im around, Dar'? Jesus ain't back yet, I can come to get ya when he is." She offered with her kind smile, and the hunter beside you nodded. "Sure thing, Maggie, come on. I got somethin' to show ya anyways." He spoke to her and then you. Your eyes watching him with curiosity when he mentioned showing you something. Excitement coursed your veins at the thought of him showing you something - anything.

He led you off and away from the leader of the little community. The woman watching both of you with a fond gaze. She was glad Daryl was finally able to find someone in all of this. It was about time he finally opened himself up to someone.

Your eyes freely roamed as Daryl drug you through the town. You recognized a few of the faces. Tara was here, greeting you with a wave and a soft smile before Daryl pulled you along further. You even saw a few others who had stopped by Alexandria a time or two during your stay there.

"Where are we going?" You asked, and he glanced at you before motioning forward. "There," he grunted, and you sighed. Looking at the building that he led you to. "Are you finally leading me to my death?" You quipped with a soft laugh, and you noticed the corner of his lips tug into a small smile. "Nah, you're too fun," he shot back, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't have your heart soaring. Your eyes dart down with a shy smile that did not go unnoticed by the hunter.

Daryl knew what he was doing probably wouldn't be that exciting, but he hoped you would like it. He saw all those CD's that you had in that bag of yours and he had heard you talk about your favorite bands so many nights when the two of you would smoke or just talk. He hoped this would mean something to you. Even if he just got a smile and a 'thank you,' from you he'd appreciate it. He'd feel appreciated. Like maybe he was doing the right thing.

When he opened the door to the shared room he ushered you to sit on the bed. Taking the bag that was strapped over his shoulder and setting it on the dresser while he rummaged through it. His back was facing you, and blocking whatever he was doing. It had your palms sweating and your body trembling a little out of anxiety. What could he be grabbing? You couldn't even begin to imagine what he was about to pull out. Did he make you something? Find something on his last run that reminded him of you? Maybe he found a new pipe for you guys to use, or...

You stopped thinking when the first note hit your ears. Everything in you froze. Your heart stopped beating for a moment and you felt a wave of emotions wash over you like you were standing in the middle of the river. You carried those CDs with you everywhere in hopes that you could listen to them all again one day, and now the intro of one of your favorite songs, from one of your favorite albums was playing in the room with you.

Your hands clenched the blankets that you sat on top of and you felt this wave of gratitude, nostalgia, and so many more things overcome you. Tears were actually brimming in your eyes at how thankful you felt for the other man.

When he turned around, you didn't even give him time to speak. Your mouth beat him to whatever he was going to ask. "You listened?" You asked, astounded that he even listened to you when you rambled about the bands that you liked. The fact that he paid attention had you feeling so much more validation than you ever had in your life. No one had cared to ever listen to you when you go on your tangents.

He let out a nervous chuckle while nodding his head. His own anxieties had taken over the moment he started the song. Wondering if maybe you wouldn't appreciate the battery-operated CD player as much as he thought you would. "Yeah, 'course I listened. Why wouldn' I listen to ya?" He asked while shifting from foot to foot. His fingers fidgeted with the sides of his jeans before he brought his bag over to you on the bed.

The bed dipped as he sat beside you. Resting it between the both of you. "I remembered all the bands ya said ya liked, I took 'em from your bag and put 'em in here, hope that's 'right." He told you. Watching as you excitedly rummaged through it. Though a few CDs you didn't recognize.

You furrowed your brow when you pulled out a Johnny Cash CD, along with A KoRn and an Alice In Chains one that you hadn't owned prior. "Those 'r some of my favorites," He told you, and you felt your heart swell at the fact he was sharing his favorite bands with you.

Music always seemed to connect you with people more than anything else in the world. The way the songs could be played just put you in the mood for different events. Different songs to associate with different people. Not only that, but the music was the best way to learn about other people. For you, at least.

"You like Alice?" You asked with a grin and he nodded. "Yeah, I used t'listen t'Man in The Box all the time," he told you with a soft smile, and you felt like you were ascending. "Any other songs you like?" You asked, and he nodded. "Hurt by Johnny Cash, Ma used t'sing Merle and me that when I was li'l." He remembered while leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "Lots'a Nirvana songs 'r good. Dumb, Aneurysm, Negative Creep, School," He reminisced, eyes staring off at the floor. "Had m'hand full of CD collections before," he scrunched his nose at the memories that flashed before his eyes. "'fore m'dad broke 'em all." He spoke but was quick to continue. "Motorhead, Creed, Sabbath, R.E.M., had a bunch'a CDs I'd steal from stores or m'brother would get f'r me." He spoke, his voice growing quieter and quieter the longer he spoke about his past.

Every memory felt like a plague to Dixon. Even the good ones gave him this sense of unease and made him feel a little queasy. Thinking about his mom reminded him that she died in what he used to think was the worst way possible. The thought of his Dad made the scars on his back scream. It was almost like he could still feel the months' worth of aches and pain that they brought him. Even the thought of his brother made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Memories of Merle betraying him, even before all this started. He realized now that his big brother betrayed him when he was younger by leaving him with their abusive dad. When he would let his friends beat Daryl. When he'd drag Daryl into drug deals and buys gone wrong.

Now when he thought of Merle, he didn't even see what he used to look like. He saw those haunting dead eyes, and the blood that drooled from his mouth after he had eaten a man.

"I had this CD collection that took up an entire cabinet," you told him, and Daryl was thankful that you started talking. He couldn't spend another moment inside that head of his. "Used to listen to music every day. I had to, or else I'd think too much and go crazy, you know?" Daryl nodded at that, he knew exactly what you meant. "I'd either think too much, or everything would be so fucking quiet. I'd get scared because all I'd hear was static and I always needed something to fill that silence." It was Daryl's turn to look over at you now. Watching as you stared at the radio and rambled on.

After a while, Daryl was hardly even listening to you or the music that played in the room. He was too occupied watching you. The way your hands move while you spoke. How you would smile or frown depending on the mood of your sentence. Or even the way your brow would crease when you thought of how to word specific sentences. He was entranced by you. Everything you did was like magic to him. He could watch you talk all day, and he felt honored that you were comfortable enough to talk with him. He knew you weren't fond of social interaction. He was an introvert himself, plus it wasn't hard to notice how reserved you were. He was just happy you trusted him enough to talk this comfortably around him. Even if he still noticed his you fidgeted your hands and wet your lips constantly.

He didn't focus on your words again until you said his name. His eyes focused on yours with raised brows. It made you smile, you knew he had zoned out. It didn't bother you too much though since you were practically rambling about nothing and everything all at once.

"Thank you, Daryl," you repeated yourself, and he nodded. Sitting up so he could place his hands beside him on the bed. His fingers unintentionally sat right against yours, but he didn't dare move them away. "'Course," he muttered, but his voice sounded distant. Like he still wasn't entirely there and he was still thinking about something else.

He could feel the beat of his heart quicken in his chest when he got this crazy idea of kissing you that flashed through his mind. That was insane. He couldn't do that, he wasn't the type of guy to initiate something like that, but you sure as hell weren't either. He was fighting with his inner thoughts. One-half of him screamed for him to kiss you. To pull you against him and hold you close. To place his hand cautiously over your throat and feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch, but he didn't. He couldn't, not right now.

"We should listen to music and smoke later tonight." You told him, your palms growing clammy with the way he stared at you and had his fingers touching the tips of yours. You just needed to say something to break the silence that was practically killing you. "We should," he added, and you smiled.

----

On the upper floor of the barn was where you both decided to light up. He had found some weed on one of his runs and offered it to try tonight. He just hoped it was good and wasn't shit. It was hard telling, anymore. Not that they really had a lot of options.

"Got a light?" He asked, holding the joint between his lips, and you nodded. Flicking the lighter so the orange light glowed. Holding it up to the tip of the joint in order to light it for him. Daryl made a 'v' with his fingers beneath the rolled drug in case it happened to slip from his lips.

He inhaled and you watched with interested eyes. His own eyes locked on your face, bouncing from feature to feature until he had to blow the smoke out. Turning his head in order to not blow it in your face. You snatched the joint from his fingers before plopping down on the ground with a hum. Your legs dangling over the edge of the opening that led from inside the barn to the outside. It was like a giant window that allowed you both the ability to see the night sky. Clicking the play button on the radio before taking a hit from the joint yourself.

Daryl leaned back when the song started. A deep exhale left his nostrils before he laid his back on the floor. His feet lightly kicked with a soft smile. Taking another hit of the drug as you passed it back to him.

'Ain't found a way to kill me yet.'

Daryl soaked in the familiar lyrics while letting the drug slowly work its way into his system with each passing hit he would take. You could tell he was already getting high the more open and relaxed he got. "Ain't listened to this song in ages," He spoke into the night sky and you chuckled, finally allowing yourself to lay beside him. Just you were facing him, admiring him with the false sense of confidence that the marijuana seemed to be feeding you tonight.

You smiled wider when he closed his eyes and began muttering the lyrics to the both of you. "Yeah, we come to snuff the rooster," he mumbled, and you wondered if he even realized he was singing to the song. It was a moment you truly hoped you would never forget. Passing the joint between one another for the next song or two.

It wasn't until the next song started playing that you finally started singing with him. "I will never bother you, I will never promise to," you called out, and a lazy smile graced Daryls' lips. "I will never follow you, I will never bother you," he hummed out. "Never speak a word again, I will crawl away for good." You both sang and your eyes met. He was glad he had grabbed this CD. He read the first few songs someone had scribbled onto it with a sharpie and he knew they were all good, but he never imagined you'd both be singing them with each other. Sober him wouldn't be, but high, Daryl was always more open and in a way bubbly.

You both stopped singing the moment your eyes locked. Kurt Cobain's voice floated in the air around you, and the mood between you both seemed to shift dramatically. Daryl could feel the heat rising to his chest, and his thoughts were so fogged over that he hardly knew what he was doing until he was doing them. Thoughts so delayed that he didn't even feel like he was controlling his own mind.

His fingertips reached out to run over the side of your face. Daryl turned to his side to look you over with this look that called out to you. You felt like your face was burning where his fingers brushed against you and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"Daryl," you spoke his name and his chest felt even tighter hearing you call out for him. He needed to be engulfed by you. To be inside you, but not in a sexual light. In more - an innocently intimate light. He didn't want to physically be inside you, but metaphorically. He didn't want to have sex, he just wanted to be consumed by every part of you. Your touch, your scent, your voice. He wanted you to hold him and he to hold you. To kiss you and feel just how soft your lips felt against his own. He wanted to be connected to you

Before he could even think over what he was doing. His body was drawn to yours like a magnet was attracted to its opposite. His hand was calloused, but his gentle touch was a big difference from the roughness of his fingers. His body scooted closer to yours, and you pulled yourself closer to him with the same eagerness. Even if neither of you really knew what was happening.

His nose bumped yours, and he felt his heart soar when you giggled at the action. His own laugh escaped his lips while he stared back into your eyes. "May I kiss ya?" He asked with his southern charm, and you nodded. You were practically putty in his hands, but he was even more so putty in yours when you reached up to brush some hair from his eyes. He damn near malfunctioned when your fingers brushed over his forehead and tucked the piece of hair behind his ear. He never knew how crazy you could drive him.

He finally gained control over his body again after focusing on the way you brushed his hair away. Leaning closer to close that gap between you both. His heart was loud in his ears. If it weren't for the fact that Chris Cornell was now singing in the background and he could still faintly hear him, he would have assumed that his eardrums had burst.

His hand came to the back of your head and pulled you closer to him. The kiss started soft and experimental, but Daryl was fast at deepening it. Hungry for more of it, more of you.

He was practically devouring you, his teeth were clashing with yours, and it had your head buzzing. Your hand knotted in the hair on the back of his head and he moaned into your mouth. A noise you had never imagined the stoic and stone-faced hunter was even capable of making. It surprised you, to say the least, and part of you wondered if you had imagined it.

Your free hand was quick to explore his arms, shoulders, and chest when he lifted himself from his side to scramble over you. One arm rested on the opposite side of your head while the other hand held the side of your face gently. You were like a couple of teenagers who had snuck out of the house to get high and make out, but this was far from either of your intentions from the beginning of the night.

Hell, both of you were convinced that neither of you would ever make a move even if you did both reciprocate the feelings. You were each so awkward and nervous. Daryl had experienced enough rejection in his life, and so had you.

When Daryl finally pulled away you were both fighting to catch your breaths. Daryl's eyes were dark. His pupils were blown and the blue of his eyes was hardly visible, especially when all either of you had for light was the moon outside that shone through the opening behind the both of you. Casting shadows over your body that Daryl swore made you look even more mysterious and handsome.

"Sorry," he muttered, he didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but it just came out. He had asked to kiss you and you said yes, but he felt like he got just a little too carried away there. You smiled, though, and it made his stomach fill with a fluttery zoo of butterflies. You made him feel things that he never thought he'd feel. He felt like he was in high school again, kissing the boy of his dreams and feeling all light and floaty. Just he wasn't, and you were both old enough to be parents to kids in high school, and high school was a thing of the past. He wished he had met you back in high school, hell. Maybe you would have been his reason to not drop out and actually get an education.

You cupped the sides of his face and his breathing staggered. His eyes fluttered shut while he let you pull him down in for another kiss. Everything felt so amplified, and he wondered if your lips were this addictive sober, too.

"Don't apologize, Daryl," you chuckled against his lips, and he nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled, and both of your eyes opened to look at each other. He hardly had a reaction, half-lidded, bloodshot eyes staring into yours, but you giggled. Your fit of giggles made him giggle as well. Another noise you had never thought to hear from the man above you. "Daryl you're too cute," you blurted, feeling your body heat up after realizing what you had said, but you were too out of it to react.

Daryl snorted lightly at the compliment, a pink dusting over his face. "Me cute? God, ya should see yerself," he cooed, leaning back in for another kiss which you happily accepted. Both of you hummed into each kiss you gave one another. Until Daryl's lips got curious, and they trailed down your jaw. He wanted to feel every part of you that you had to offer. One of his hands moved to rest on the other side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse. He felt how fast it was racing and that only seemed to excite Daryl more. His lips traveled further down until they were on your throat.

His lips had hardly brushed the skin of your neck and you felt it tingle with this familiar feeling that had your body flinching and jerking. A smile spread across your lips as his beard tickled against your skin. "Daryl," you squeaked while he unintentionally tickled your neck. "Daryl, stop it! That tickles!" He was a little panicked when he heard you tell him to stop, worried he overstepped the boundaries, but when you said it tickled? Oh, that was a reaction he was not expecting but was far from disappointed in hearing.

His lips attacked you, and your giggles turned into laughs. Your hands trying to shove and push him away from you. Your legs tried to scoot you away, but he had moved so he hovered above you and his other hand was on your hip keeping you still. His laughter was mixing with your own while he left sloppy kisses over your neck and shoulders. Your giggles caused his chest to swell. He swore it would burst open with how much adoration he had for you.

It wasn't until you pushed his face away from you that he stopped. His eyes met yours that were shedding tears from how hard you were laughing, and he smiled down at you with these eyes that you swore you'd never seen so much love in before. You wanted to pretend to be mad at him, hell you were a little upset. You weren't that fond of being tickled, but you couldn't help but smile back. You'd blame your lack of ability to stay mad at the man above you on the weed. When deep down you knew you just had the biggest soft spot in the world for Daryl Dixon. Your hero, your saint.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, brushing tears off it with a sigh. "Sorry, got carried away," he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. "Jus' love hearing' ya laugh, can't blame me," he grumbled, and you looked a little sheepish as you stared up at him. "I like hearing your laugh too, I don't get to hear it that much though." He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. His finger traced over your cheek and down to your chin. Watching intently. "Kinda hard t'laugh anymore," he sighed, and you nodded. "I get that," then it was silent again.

The CD has stopped a while ago. Neither of you really knew when it stopped, but neither of you really seemed to care either. Normally you hated the silence, but right now it felt so much different. Your senses were overwhelmed by the man that was now shifting to lay beside you. Your eyes grew heavy as you smiled fondly over at him. He noticed how sleepy you looked and took it upon himself to get you both back inside. It was too chilly to be sleeping out here with no blanket, and with the spring weather, there was no telling if it would start raining in the middle of the night or in the morning.

Daryl brought himself to his hands and knees, and you watched. He had to stay in that position for a moment while he steadied his vision. "shit, might'a smoked too much," he chuckled, and you chuckled back. "You're such a lightweight," you teased, and he shot you a playful look. "Hey, you just wait til I'm smokin' ya under the table, I used to smoke my big brother under the table," he snickered, and you rolled your eyes. Watching as he stood to his feet, but you had no motivation to move.

He extended his arm for you to grab, but you just stared up at him. He smirked, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon, boy, ain't gonna shit talk me then just lay there," he quipped, and you groaned. Grabbing his hand back while letting him pull you to your feet. It was like nothing to him, lifting you off the ground, and it made you wonder if he could just carry you to bed. Your wobbly legs seemed to ask the question for you though because before you knew it Daryl was sweeping you into his arms.

The yelp that you let out made him snicker, "Quiet, people are sleeping'," he joked, and you wrapped your arms snugly around his neck. "Oh, so you tickled me and had us both laughing, but you draw a line at me shouting because you picked me up while I'm high? Dick." you scoffed, and he rolled his eyes, reaching back to the ground to grab the stereo. His shoulder rested against a pillar for a second to gather his balance again. He was going to pass out the moment his head hit that pillow and he knew it. He walked you both back to your room, neither of you saying a word in the process.

Once you were in the bedroom, he set the stereo down on the end of the bed before lying you down. He was going to leave and head back to his own room. Leave you with your own bed, but when you grabbed his hand he stopped. His blue eyes stare down at you while tilting his head to the side with a questioning gaze. "Can you stay?" The corner of his lip tugged up when you asked that. His insides were bubbling and his heart was fighting against the restraints of his chest plate. "Yeah, scoot over," he hummed. If he was sober he'd have asked you if you were sure, but he was too stoned to even think about dragging himself down the hall to his own bed. Plus, it'd give him an excuse to actually hold you. It wasn't like you two weren't just eating each other's faces a moment before anyways.

You shifted over for the man. Daryl lying beside you after reaching down to untie his boots and then toe them off his feet. He stayed a distance from you, but that didn't last too long. Soon you were scooting back into his arms, the both of you holding each other incredibly close before you each relaxed. Even if you weren't the strongest thing, he felt so incredibly safe with your arms around him. Like nothing bad would ever happen to him again. You feel the same with his arms snug around your waist. "Night, Daryl," you muttered against his chest. A soft grunt left his lips since he was already pretty much asleep. Sleep took over you right after.

The next day Maggie had come to Daryl's door. Knocking since he hadn't been up already, worry taking over her at that fact. He was always up before everyone else. It seemed like the moment that sun was rising he was wide awake. Ready to take on the world and more. When there was no answer she called his name, peaking inside the door with furrowed brows. "Daryl?" She called, but no one was there. Maybe he went out on a hunt? Even with all the food they had in the communities, they'd always find him out getting squirrels and rabbits, the occasional deer here or there.

Before she landed on that decision though she went to check your room. Raising her hand to knock, but right as she did that door came swinging open. He was standing in the doorway and his brows shot up at the fact that she had caught him leaving your room so early. "Sleep well?" She asked with a knowing smile, and he felt his face go hot. "Slept fine," he muttered, and her smile was even wider at how bashful her friend got. The way his eyes darted to the side, and he seemed to block you from view with his body when she tip-toed to look over him to see you where she assumed you would be in bed. "You two do somethin?" She asked, and he scoffed. "No, ain't nun'a yer business if we did," She giggled, stepping back to allow him to exit the doorway and step into the hall. Daryl peeked behind himself to see you sleeping before he shut the door. "Are you guys...?" "Dammit Maggie, I came here to help you, not ya're damn twenty questions." He snarled while stomping down the hall, Maggie standing in place while watching the man with a grin. "Takin' that as a yes."

[mosneakers]

Erwin: ... So yeah. That's why they call themselves the "Mother In Red Association." It's some pretty wild stuff, Robs. It might be a little early to call this, but I think they might just be sitting on a landmine of monumental information.

Robin: Wow, Bella Goth, though? That'd be a pretty big deal if they uncover that one! I'm gonna do some digging of my own. I need to know more about this mysterious organization. Erwin: As long as it's not too stressful for ya. I know there's a lot going on in your life right now. Your mom and grandma uprooting the whole family to Henford-on-Bagley, of all places, to start an animal sanctuary.

Robin: How could I forget? The real Henford-on-Bagley. Not my fictional made up one. What if they're there, you know?[Whispers] My Strange-Grey characters? Can you imagine if my family came across them one day? I could... I could get my magic taken from me!

Erwin: Hey, hey! don't worry about that. If they are there, I'm sure they don't want to be found either. And you wrote them to be clever, so clever they'll be.

Robin: [Sigh of relief] I guess you're right. The point is, I could use this whole M.I.R.A. distraction to help get my mind off everything. Thanks for sharing this with me, babe. [Smiles warmly]

Erwin: No, thanks for letting me share. There was just so much information, I had to tell someone. It'll be nice to go down another rabbithole with you again, kid. [Returns smile] Robin: [Laughs] Well hopefully this one won't end up the same way the last one did.

Erwin: It won't be that- oh shoot! It's almost 3 AM here, and my burner phone is about to die. I should get going. Astro is probably freaking out. Plus I have to work in the morning. The Curio shop won't run itself! I love you Robin. Talk to you tomorrow, k?

[Undead High noises coming from the background of the Sparrow home theatre]

Robin: Love you too Erwin! [Click]

The game allows Robin to accept the new personality trait "Loyal"

Erwin punches in the security code to the Old Penelope front entrance where he's greeted with a burst of excitement from his beloved pup, Astro. Astro jumps and yelps in delight, unable to contain his excitement. Erwin crouches down on the floor and returns his love with pets and cuddles.

Erwin watches his feet carefully, making sure not to trip over Astro on his descent down the stairs. He was so focused on not falling, that it took him a while to notice Coni at the bottom of the stairs, waiting nervously for him.

Erwin: ...Coni?